


Just Starting To Crawl

by apropensityforcharm



Category: Glee
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, sex wise: rutting and blowjobs and penetrative sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apropensityforcharm/pseuds/apropensityforcharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After having no luck in the TV business for two years, Blaine jumps at the chance to star in a guest spot on his brother Cooper's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad show. Playing the romantic interest opposite one Sebastian Smythe, the fangirls immediately latch onto their chemistry - but Blaine would rather be with Kurt, the gorgeous guy working in costumes. Problem is, Kurt is already married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at my tumblr, apropensityforcharm. I'd love to chat!

When Cooper first drops the script on the table in front of Blaine, he thinks he’s playing a practical joke on him. It’s been two years since he graduated from NYADA and moved down to LA to live with his brother – Cooper told him that Broadway is dead and the _real_ industry is in film, but Blaine hasn’t been able to gain any success there at all. After two months, he had to get a job as a singing waiter just to bring in some cash so he could avoid that starving artist archetype, because his relentless auditioning for shows never even earned him a call back. He never even landed some ridiculous role as that guy that gets killed on NCIS. Not that they ever say it to his face, but producers all seem to have the same opinion of him – charismatic, likeable in that Mr Rogers sort of way, talented enough and yet missing that _one thing._ Blaine doesn’t have a clue what that one thingis, else he would have rectified it months ago, but _one thing_ is certain – the whole super famous successful performer thing? Not really working out.

It’s disheartening to wait by the phone for weeks on end, over and over again, and always nothing to come of it, so Blaine is about ready to go get that teaching degree he was thinking about when Cooper comes to him with a proposition. It’s about _Free Heart._

Free Heart is Cooper’s show. It’s also possibly the most overwrought, treacly piece of television that he’s seen in years and Blaine isn’t quite sure how it ever got green lighted by the producers, let alone turned into the hit show of the summer. Cooper really loves it, of course. Not that Cooper is any modicum of quality, but it does mean that Blaine can’t really say anything disparaging about it without hurting his feelings. When the pilot had aired, Cooper had been so innocently excited about his big break that out of some resuscitated loyalty to his brother, he forces himself to sit through every single episode and tries not to feel too jealous that even Cooper, replete with emotion tornado and pointing, can be a lead character when he can’t.

And then Cooper plunks down at his kitchen table one morning with no warning, all bright eyes like a puppy eager to please his master, and says, ‘You are going to love me for this, squirt.’

He slides across the table a script and Blaine looks at it, looks back at Cooper and says, ‘I’m not interested in running lines with you for three hours, Coop.’

And then Cooper just grins bigger and tells Blaine that it’s not that. Because, see, there’s a character on the show getting a new love interest soon enough and Cooper thinks that Blaine would be  _perfect_ for the part. And as Cooper talks portentously about the lengths he went to secure Blaine this audition (‘You should hire  _me_ as your agent, get rid of that cad you have now – ‘), Blaine sifts slowly through the script – and agrees.

It’s not that the character is some carbon copy of Blaine himself. In fact, the character is something of a bad boy with his leather and bad grades and don’t give a shit attitude. He’s rude and terse and utterly lacking in the manners that Blaine holds so close to himself. But Blaine sees himself in the character in the way he can’t quite bury his longing to be liked, in the way he feels he can never be good enough and so eventually he stopped trying. (Blaine hasn’t stopped trying. Not yet.) And when he walks into the room where the open auditions are held (almost lost a limb my  _ass,_ Cooper Anderson), for once his confidence isn’t a façade.

The producers like him. They smile and nod their heads a lot and whisper to each other like they think he can’t see it, and when they let him go they don’t mention a patronizing ‘we’ll get back to you’ even once. And when he gets a call back two days later he screams in the middle of his empty apartment and then he calls Sam and Tina and screams some more and they scream too and when the neighbours start banging on the walls he doesn’t even feel bad.

Turns out the producers like him even more than he could have possibly imagined, because when he gets to the second audition there are only six other contenders there. And for the first time Blaine thinks that he honestly might not be making all his hopes up in his head. And when he gets into the audition room and finds himself face to face with the creator of the whole damn show, he thinks he might just pass out.

They pull him in for a chemistry test next and that’s when he meets Sebastian Smythe. Sebastian is tall and good looking in that generic sort of way and wears a perpetual smirk as he casually bullies his agent into bringing him a mug of honeyed tea before their scene. He’s totally Hollywood, all jaded world traveller and confidence oozing from his pores, in the papers every couple of months for questionable behaviour involving sex and drugs. When he looks at Blaine, Blaine feels rather like a sparrow trapped under the gaze of a hawk. They do their scene together, some kind of argument brought on by Blaine’s delinquency – Blaine privately allows himself to appreciate the irony of Sebastian playing a goody two-shoes while  _Blaine_ is the bad boy – and the producers get a look on their faces that Blaine doesn’t know whether to like or not. And then Sebastian leaves without even a hand-flicked wave good bye, and Blaine feels the coils in stomach squeeze tighter.

They leave him hanging for a whole week this time before they give him the call while he’s moping on the couch marathoning Jersey Shore; when he hears that he’s got the job he completely forgets to scream at Tina and Sam over the phone and instead passes out on the couch for a whole three hours. When he wakes up, he thinks it was all a dream until he checks his phone history.

Everything turns into a whirlwind from there. His agent is ecstatic and so is Cooper and both of them try to take credit for the job while Blaine privately allows himself to be proud, because it was  _him_ that managed this. (He does make sure to hug Cooper extra tight when he sees him though. Credit where credit is due.) The producers want him to start filming as soon as possible, which Blaine thinks translates to a month but is actually four days. (He still feels like passing out every time they mention _wanting_ him. Thousands of people auditioned for that role and it’s _him_ that they want. Finally finally _finally_.)

And then suddenly he finds himself on set, standing alone in the middle of the asphalt while crew members rush into various trailers around him, and tries not to feel as hopelessly lost as he is. He has a map in hand which has proved suitably useless and his phone is blinking at him from the other hand, patiently reminding him that he was due in Costumes five minutes ago.

He’s _late_ on his first day. He’s never going to live this down.

He’s just looking around for a PA to flag down for directions when he hears a voice behind him.

‘Hey! Are you lost?’

Blaine turns, apologies for needing helping already on his tongue, and stops breathing. Standing in front of him, a garment bag hooked over his shoulder and hip cocked casually as he regards Blaine, is an angel.

The more sensible part of Blaine’s brain rolls its eyes at his poor stuttering heart, because of course this man is entirely human, but he really is far too lovely for this world. Lovely bone structure, all sharp cheekbones and strong jaw line, mouth quirked curiously and a single eyebrow raised above his brow. He’s tall – taller than Blaine anyhow – with distractingly long limbs and a lean torso that leads up to a gorgeous slender neck. His brown hair is coiffed carefully on top of his head and he has eyes like a kaleidoscope of green and blue, staring right at him, clearly expecting an answer.

‘Oh,’ Blaine says stupidly. His mind, bogged down in sci-fi and fantasy movies of the past years of Sam’s friendship, frantically tries to come up with some kind of comparison that this man might fit. An elf of Rivendell, he thinks when he spots an adorable pair of pointy ear tips. Or an alien able to hypnotize poor fragile humans through a single glance of those eyes. Then he mentally slaps himself and sternly instructs his brain to pull it together because Blaine is a performer always, even in front of men so beautiful he finds himself speechless, and it won’t do to lose his composure now.

‘Yes,’ he says in answer to the man’s question and holds up his schedule. ‘I’m lost. All of the trailers kind of look the same.’ He shrugs his shoulders as though to say What can you do? and then adds, because he doesn’t want to be seen as _entirely_ incompetent, ‘It’s my first day.’

The man immediately brightens. He smiles and rocks back on his heels a little and says, ‘Oh, you’re the new cast member, right? This is your costume right here!’ He jiggles the bag over his shoulder a little then gives a little salute that Blaine is immediately endeared to. ‘I’m Kurt Hummel, head of costumes here at the great ship that is Free Heart. Welcome!’

‘I’m Blaine Anderson,’ Blaine says and resolutely ignores the strength of Kurt’s grip on his hand. ‘I play – ‘

‘JC, I know.’ Kurt heads off in the direction of a nearby trailer and Blaine trots behind and absolutely does not look at Kurt’s ass. ‘I’ve been thinking up costume designs all weekend. Tricky character you’ve got there.’

‘Oh?’ Blaine says. ‘I kind of just figured that you’d put me in leather jackets and ratty jeans every day and send me away to film.’

Kurt lets out a disparaging little snort as he pushes the door open to one of the trailers. The inside of the trailer is much larger than Blaine expected and although it’s cluttered with racks of clothes and accessories and shelves of files, the entire place is meticulously organised. Kurt says, ‘Well, sure, if we just wanna go the generic bad boy route, but then I may as well be dressing cardboard. JC has a lot more depth than that.’ He eyes Blaine appraisingly. ‘I’d think that the guy the producers have been raving about for the past week would understand that.’

‘I – yes,’ Blaine says. He hopes his blush isn’t obvious. ‘I just never thought of it in terms of, um, clothing, I guess.’ 

The garment bag swings down from Kurt’s shoulder and he unzips it to toss Blaine a holey flannel and a pair of pants that Blaine knows will be too long from just a glance. He points at a little partition in the corner of the room that Blaine can change in.

‘Everything JC wears is a part of his character,’ Kurt explains while Blaine tugs his polo over his head. It occurs to him that he’s now half naked in the same room as this ridiculously good looking man and the heat floods to his cheeks. Kurt continues, ‘If you don’t want your character to be a complete stereotype then you can hardly dress him as such. That’s like some self fulfilling prophecy.’

‘Right,’ Blaine says hesitantly. ‘I’ve never really... thought of it that way.’

Kurt makes a humming noise. ‘You will. Just need a little experience to smooth your way, that’s all. Do the clothes fit?’

‘Yeah,’ Blaine says. He steps out from the partition and spreads his arms wide for inspection. He can feel the tag tickling at the back of his neck and he doesn’t feel at all like himself in the cheap, worn clothes – but he supposes that’s the point.

Kurt smiles approvingly and moves from his position leaning against the desk – so casually hot, god – to fix him up a little. He’s so close that Blaine can smell him, clean and clear like rain, and he tries not to let it go to his head. Does he really need to be this near to make adjustments? He’s so close his nose is almost brushing his neck.

Briefly he wonders what would happen if he asked Kurt out on a date; they don’t know each other at all really, they met all of five minutes ago, but Blaine already likes him. He likes Kurt’s style – if nothing else, he can see friendship between them. God he hopes for something else.

He tries not to focus too much on the way Kurt’s long fingers gently pull and tug at his clothes over his body, sending thrills of heat right through him whenever he connects with skin. But he looks down when Kurt reaches up to pop the collar of his ratty flannel shirt and – there, on his left hand is a simple gold band with a tiny diamond set directly into the top. Blaine blinks. He almost makes a comment on how nice the ring is when he finally makes the connection, and he realises: Oh god. Kurt is  _married._ As surely as it had begun, Blaine’s rising hope plummets to the floor and cracks at his feet.

And then – well there’s that mystical comparison Blaine has been searching for. Kurt is a Siren, as gorgeous and alluring as the Northern Lights, but in the end Blaine’s temptation will only end in destruction – even if it’s not Blaine’s own.

He wonders what would have happened if he had been so rash to ask Kurt on a date. He probably would have laughed in his face, he thinks miserably. His husband is probably just as beautiful as he is, only maybe he’s a doctor, or a scientist from NASA or one of the hundreds of celebrities milling about in this city. Or maybe he’s not even gay – God, he’s probably married to some supermodel who is as smart as she is beautiful. Nobody that Blaine could ever compete with. His good mood slips away like the sun behind a cloud.

‘Blaine?’

Kurt is staring up at him. He’s stepped further away, Blaine notices, and his fingers are twisting anxiously in front of him. That damn ring is glinting.

‘Yeah?’ His voice sounds strained.

‘I was just saying that you’re ready to go,’ Kurt says uncertainly. ‘Hair and makeup will be waiting for you. Do you... do you think you’ll need help finding them?’

Blaine thanks years of stiff family dinners for his ability to put on a show smile on command. ‘No, I’ll be fine. I ran into them earlier when I was trying to find you.’

‘Oh.’ Kurt bites his lip and looks shyly at the ground. Blaine supposes it would be horrendously arrogant to think Kurt might possibly look disappointed. ‘Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.’

Blaine turns away to leave, but before he can go far Kurt calls out, ‘Just – I’ll be here all day if you need help getting around or anything. Or if you just want to talk. Come back and see me, okay?’

One half of his mouth quirks up in a smile and then he reaches forward and closes the door in Blaine’s face.

Day one: commence.

Blaine only has one scene to film that day, so he has no reason to go back and see Kurt for any sort of official, costume-y business. He tells himself that as a professional, he should be restrained. More house cat, less eager dog. At lunch, he almost gives in when he sees Kurt hurrying across the lot with a phone to his ear, but then Cooper ambushes him wanting to know all about how his first day is going and the crisis is averted. (Blaine is approximately three sentences into his recount when Cooper hijacks the conversation with a tale bemoaning how his co-star – a lady named Rachel Berry – won’t go out with him. Blaine doesn’t think he’s ever gotten so much talk in before.)

By the end of the day when the sun has long since hidden behind the tall buildings, Blaine is so exhausted that he can hardly see straight. He belatedly decides that acting is hard work and he really should have become a teacher, because five year olds are less bratty than Sebastian Smythe in a temper. Blaine should try method acting so that he wouldn’t feel guilty about giving Sebastian a piece of his mind. Cooper would be delighted.

He’s just bipped his car open and is daydreaming of that wonderful couch waiting for him at home when he hears an already familiar voice call his name.

He turns to see Kurt hurrying towards him, car keys swinging from his fingers and a pleased smile on his face. ‘Blaine, hi!’ he says. ‘I was afraid I was going to miss you.’

‘Kurt, hey!’ he says, wincing inwardly at the puppy-like eagerness of his tone. ‘What’s up?’

‘Oh, I just wanted to know how your day went.’ Kurt smiles. ‘I didn’t see you again after this morning.’

‘Oh, yeah, well.’ Blaine shrugs. ‘I wouldn’t want to distract you from your work.’

Kurt bites at his lower lip and Blaine watches, suddenly dry throated, as two shallow teeth marks appear. ‘I wouldn’t have minded.’

Blaine swallows and makes himself look Kurt in the eye. ‘Right,’ he forces himself to say.

Kurt shakes himself suddenly and gives a laugh that is far too nervous for the situation. ‘Well, obviously it’s too late to catch up now, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?’

‘Yes! Yes, of course!’ Blaine winces at his obvious eagerness, but it only makes Kurt smile wider.

‘Great! Well, I’m due back at home, so...’

Kurt wiggles his fingers as he turns away and his ring catches the light of a nearby street lamp. Blaine slumps against his car as Kurt disappears from sight.

A crush on his first day of work. Good work, Blaine. Just brilliant.

\--

By the end of the first week, Blaine has officially met everyone he needs to meet. On the second day, Rachel Berry accosts him while he’s eating lunch and when she introduces herself (all in one breath, ‘Hi, I’m Rachel Berry, I’m sure you’ve heard of me but for the sake of tradition or if you happen to have been living under a rock I thought it would be polite to introduce myself – ‘) he idiotically blurts out, ‘Oh, you’re the one who refuses to date Cooper.’

She fixes him with a brilliant smile and says, ‘Yes, well, as attractive as your brother may be, I am firmly of the position that dating your co-stars is extremely unprofessional and I rue the day when any circling media shark accuses me of compromising my integrity by engaging in a publicity relationship.’ And then as an afterthought, ‘I’m already dating someone anyway.’

‘Oh. Well, I’m sorry he’s being so persistent,’ Blaine apologises, but Rachel only sends him another dazzling show smile and informs him rapid fire that it’s an excellent acting exercise to allow Cooper to feel as though he might ever have a chance. Then she flounces away again and Blaine allows himself to feel just a little bit shell shocked.

Later, he recounts the tale to Kurt, who laughs and informs him that Rachel is a very acquired taste. ‘She’s very sweet though.’

‘She’s very intense,’ Blaine says, ‘but I think I like her?’

Kurt looks at Blaine approvingly and Blaine feels strangely as though he’s passed a test he didn’t know he was taking.

Another week goes by and Blaine finds himself searching for tiny excuses to go visit Kurt during the day. His jacket has loose stitches everywhere, so he has to go get that fixed, but when he reaches Kurt’s trailer, the man stares at him and tells him that the loose stitches are there on purpose – his character is a broke badass. Did you really expect him to look pristine? Honestly, Blaine, I do actually put thought into my costumes, you know.

His pants don’t fit right; the tag is itching his neck; these battered shoes are practically falling off his feet. Can’t he just let the costume people quickly sort it out? Blaine is sure that everyone thinks that he’s a right diva for complaining about things so silly. He would fear for his job’s stability if the director didn’t keep raving on about his chemistry with Sebastian, the praise lighting in him like a piece of sun to keep him warm. He knows it’s downright stupid to allow himself to get attached to a co-worker like this – you’ve known him less than a month, and being so gorgeous doesn’t stop him from being very firmly _married –_ and yet he feels drawn to Kurt as surely as though the man holds a leash around his neck, and he just can’t resist.

Kurt comments one day as he glues the soles of Blaine shoes, ‘You know, Blaine, when I said you should come see me, I didn’t really mean times when you were supposed to be working.’

‘They’re setting up a new shot,’ Blaine says offhandedly from his position on a nearby counter, swinging his feet. ‘It’ll take a while.’

‘They generally need the actors to fix the light,’ Kurt says dryly.

‘They have stand ins.’

‘I just – ‘ Kurt bites his lip (an altogether too distracting habit of his). ‘I don’t want to compromise your work just because you think I might – need company or something.’

Blaine tries not to feel like it’s a rejection. He doesn’t drop by as often after that.

Three weeks later, Blaine’s first episode airs and his co-workers take him out for a drink to celebrate. The club is too loud and smoky for Blaine’s taste and he spends most of the time at the bar waiting for his co-workers to realise that the man of the hour is missing. Kurt joins him before long but they only have the chance to chat for a couple of minutes before Rachel stumbles onto the scene and whisks Kurt away with a delighted shout. Blaine feels his loss sharply and promptly finds that another drink is quite a fine way to achieve that numb non-thinking enjoyment he’s searching for.

The next morning, after he’d loosened up enough to get dizzy with alcohol, Blaine is downing his second cup of coffee at the kitchen island when Cooper bounces into the room, laptop balanced precariously on his arm.

‘Good morning, Blainey!’ he sings. ‘How are you feeling on this fine day?’

‘I think something died on my tongue,’ Blaine says and raises his eyebrows at Cooper. ‘ _You_ drank a lot more than I did – where the hell is your hangover?’

‘Trick of the trade, squirt,’ Cooper informs him. ‘You’ll learn soon enough.’

‘What, celebrities don’t get sick?’ Blaine mutters. He nods his head at the laptop. ‘What’s that for?’

Cooper beams and puffs up like a rooster. ‘ _Well,’_ he starts and Blaine rolls his eyes. ‘You might want to sit down for this,’ he continues and Blaine very carefully does not say a word. Cooper mimes a drum roll and then after much posturing shouts, ‘It turns out that my baby brother is pretty much the media darling of the whole of America right now!’ He flings his arms out with a flourish and his laptop tilts dangerously.

Blaine blinks. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘The news sites, squirt,’ Cooper says excitedly and thrusts the laptop at his nose. ‘The gossip rags. The _blogs,_ Blaine, oh my god you should see the _blogs._ Anyone who is anyone is creaming themselves over you right now.’

Cooper jiggles the laptop impatiently and Blaine takes it hesitantly. He knows Cooper, and he knows that Cooper likes to declare himself the king of Hollywood after any positive review (and sulks monstrously at the many bad) so it’s likely to be nothing, but when he sees the sheer number of tabs Cooper has open, his jaw drops. ‘Cooper – there’s got to be over twenty articles on here!’

‘Mhmm.’ Cooper bounces on his toes. ‘And every last one of them has announced you to be _the_ hottest thing since Justin Bieber’s last tailspin of destruction.’

Blaine scrolls through the first article a little dazedly, a loud gossipy piece from an LGBT news site with the blaring headline _Blaine Anderson takes Free Heart by storm – and maybe he’ll take Smythe too!_ and makes himself stop just as the comments come into view. He doesn’t want to know what they say. The next article is much the same, and the next, and the next after that. Random quotations jump out at him ( _Anderson brings a new depth to a trope that has been done to_ death - ) and he makes himself read and try not to feel so lightheaded. Cooper is hovering at his shoulder and making sounds as though he is very pleased with himself ( _the younger Anderson is just as charming as his older brother_ ) and Blaine honestly doesn’t know if he could make a noise if he tried.

( _JC is somehow lovable despite having no redeeming qualities whatsoever...)_

He didn’t consider before now exactly how huge an opportunity a show like Free Heart could be. He knows the show is big, because Cooper spams his email with really far too many reviews for it to be a small deal, but Blaine is surprisingly oblivious to pop culture sometimes. If it isn’t trashy reality then he mostly sticks to his Golden Age of Hollywood classics. Now he thinks that his head might have been even deeper in the sand than he knew. The queer politics blogs he keeps track of occasionally make references to it, mostly snide comments about the only queer character on the show having nobody to express it with; Blaine had almost fallen out of his chair when his own name had appeared on the screen without warning two weeks ago while absentmindedly working his way through one of said blogs.  ‘ _Mainstream shows like Free Heart are too big not to buckle to the pressure of the unrepresented crying out for representation, so to appease us they give us characters like Sebastian Smythe’s practically neutered Alexander, who do nothing more than help fill in the minority bingo card. (Maybe that will change with the introduction of a rumoured bad boy, played by gay actor Blaine Anderson? Probably not.)’_

It had been a half reference at best, buried underneath a thousand words of snarky cultural commentary, but he hadn’t stopped thinking about it for the rest of the day. It had been the first time Blaine had realised that people would actually know who he was. And now... he’s everywhere. Blaine feels as though someone smacked him over the head with a mallet.

‘Your agent is totally swamped with calls,’ Cooper says smugly, dragging Blaine out of his stupor. ‘Rumour has it that _Ellen_ wants to interview you.’

Blaine blinks. ‘Wow.’

‘You trended on Twitter for over three hours last night.’

Blaine blinks again. He doesn’t say anything at all.

Cooper’s head tilts. One way, and then the other. He taps a finger to Blaine’s head. ‘Are you home? Is anyone in there?’

Blaine manages a nod.

Cooper watches him for a moment more, just a little more contained now that the initial announcement is over, but Blaine can’t bring himself to respond anymore. He thinks he might be going into shock.

Eventually, Cooper drops Blaine’s phone into his lap and tells him that calling his agent might be a good idea. ‘You have a big couple of weeks ahead of you, squirt,’ he informs him, probably more ominously than need be. ‘You ain’t seen _nothin’_ yet.’

Blaine checks his phone after Cooper strolls out the door and isn’t surprised to see thirteen missed calls from his agent. A little thought itches in the back of his mind that now people _know who he is_ he really should upgrade to a halfway decent agency, but the thought makes him feel terribly guilty so he stolidly ignores it. That’s a matter for another time.

He has two text messages from an unknown number. He thinks for a moment that creepy strangers are already trying to get a hold of him, but the first says, _Congrats, stud. Not that I thought you would be anything other than perfect, but if anyone deserves success, it’s you._

And then directly after, _It’s Kurt, by the way. I got your number from Rachel, who got it from Cooper. Hopefully this isn’t too awkward._

Blaine smiles to himself, and adds Kurt’s number to his phone.

\--

_Hi, Kurt. Thank you so much! I’m really excited._

_You should be! Although something tells me you’ll be more modest about your success than Rachel._

_?_

_Boasting didn’t quit for two months. And I LIVED with her, Blaine._

_I’m sure it was well deserved._

_It was. Doesn’t stop it from being annoying. How are you?_

_\--_

The next few weeks _are_ insane. Blaine’s new publicist shuttles him between interviews and filming and even two photo shoots and Blaine is frankly surprised that he manages to catch any sleep at all. Two more of his episodes air and it doesn’t seem as though his popularity is diminishing in the slightest – rather, it’s growing every day. That first morning, Blaine’s Twitter following exploded from 112 to over 50,000 and the kind of things he saw in his feed had scared him off the network for a week before he had the courage to come back. Fans of Sebastian’s character hooked onto him fast enough to make him dizzy and now they have their own portmanteau, _Jalexander_. (He doesn’t like to think about the people who have latched onto himself and _Sebastian.)_ The producers of the show are already discussing promoting him to a regular in the upcoming season.

And through it all is Kurt. Blaine likes the attention and he likes the challenge of acting and he likes the fact that he has a job at all, but before long, Kurt is officially the favourite part of Blaine’s day. Working with people like Rachel is amazing, while Cooper is a toss-up between wonderful and infuriating and Sebastian is always going to be trying, but Kurt is always there, as immutable and welcome as a sunrise. Blaine knows that he’s had a crush on him from the moment they met, but underneath those familiar nerves an easy friendship builds. There’s always that underlying attraction Blaine feels thrumming through his body like strings pulled on a cello, but he knows there’s so much more there than want for a pretty face. Kurt is whip smart and funny and wickedly snarky in a way that shocks Blaine more often than not. He learns quickly that although Kurt’s exterior is prickly, he can be startling kind whenever it’s needed and although he seems to have fun poking jokes at Blaine’s shellacked hair, never once does he feel any true judgment coming from him.

Blaine finds himself spending most of his lunchtimes sprawled against the wall of Kurt’s trailer while Kurt tries to talk around the pins in his mouth. On the rare occasion that he manages to convince Kurt to stop working for once and have lunch with the rest of the crew, they stay close together anyway. They’ll sit together and Blaine will try not to focus too much on the warmth of Kurt’s thigh against his.

Occasionally, Blaine manages to trick himself into the thought that Kurt might be flirting with him. It’s never anything bold, just tiny moments that must be his overactive imagination playing up on him, like when he’d been readjusting Blaine’s shirt and allowed his hand to slip right across the bare skin of Blaine’s stomach, or his habit of looking at Blaine through coquettishly lowered lashes while he talks. Kurt tends to physically hold himself at arm length with everyone he interacts with, naturally aloof in a way that suggests discomfort with contact in the past, but with Blaine he’s constantly in his personal space. Not that Blaine terribly minds, as he has always been overly tactile, though his mind has a tendency to go into overdrive whenever Kurt touches him. Looking at it pragmatically, Kurt treats Blaine the same way he would treat anyone else, albeit with more laughter and gossip. But there’s something different there. It’s not flirting – it couldn’t be – but it’s something.  

Over the weeks, Blaine familiarises himself with Kurt’s quirks the same way one would studiously learn the principles of physics. Kurt loves lemon cheesecake but shuns Blaine for an hour when he admits to preferring strawberry. He swears religiously by Stephen Sondheim but then says, as though admitting a terrible secret, that he prefers Andrew Lloyd Webber. They find a fellowship in their shared passion of scripted reality shows and when Blaine calls it a guilty pleasure Kurt scoffs and informs him that he is entirely unabashed. He loves the rain, although he cried for an hour once when he ruined his Doc Martens by stepping in a puddle. He says that he misses it here in Los Angeles and he calls his dad every time it storms to alleviate the feeling of homesickness. (Blaine had had a minor freak-out and a triumphant thought of soulmates when he found out that they both grew up Ohio, barely two hours from each other. Then they’d spent an hour bitching about the Midwest and he’d felt strangely connected to Kurt afterwards.)

Blaine finds himself falling in love with the way Kurt jigs whenever he gets excited and his tendency to crack jokes in order to ease any tension. He loves the way Kurt seems to have a strange kind of grace while also acting as though he doesn’t quite understand his own body yet. He loves the way Kurt always forgets about the filing cabinet at the front of his trailer and stubs his toe on the corner. He loves the faint freckles that cover his entire face and his habit of pulling his lip between his teeth whenever he’s deep in thought.

More than once he wakes up in the middle of the night flushed and panting, his boxers sticky, his mind racing with images of Kurt’s long pale neck bared shameless and desperate up at him. He forgives himself for those because it’s hard to control your own psyche, after all. It’s harder to explain away the times he jerks off in the shower and tries to forget exactly how unattainable Kurt is.

On one of the many afternoons that Blaine spends in Kurt’s trailer, Kurt’s husband comes up.

Kurt’s mentioned his husband before, little throwaway comments that he clearly doesn’t consider before speaking, which makes Blaine wonder what it would be like to have someone so intertwined in your life that it’s no longer ‘my life’, but ‘our life’. (His heart pangs for want of it, and his brain rebelliously tacks on ‘with Kurt’ before he can cut off that thought.) But he never really _talks_ about him, never raves or complains or says anything besides half considered thoughts.

So Blaine sits up and notices when he actually starts talking.

They’ve been sitting in silence for a couple of minutes now, one of those comfortable, unpressured silences that Blaine thinks of smugly in his head as proof that they are destined for friendship, when Kurt says, ‘So Adam’s out of town all week next week.’

Adam is the name of Kurt’s husband. Like Adam and Eve, Blaine had thought gloomily when he’d found out. The perfect man. Blaine isn’t even religious.

Blaine’s heart doesn’t know whether to be sorry or pleased that Kurt will be alone all week, so instead he asks, ‘What for?’

Kurt gives a little laugh and says with a fond eye roll, ‘His band has a gig. In _New York.’_

The more vindictive part of Blaine wants to know if they’re really so terrible that the only half-rate bar they can book is on the other side of the country, but then he feels astoundingly guilty because it’s really not fair to judge someone that you’ve never even met. He asks politely, ‘So what’s his band’s name?’ and Kurt replies, ‘Adam and the Apples,’ and Blaine’s Mother Teresa resolve immediately crumbles. _Adam and the Apples._ He named a band after himself. Clearly, he is an aggrandizing douchebag.

Blaine would never name a band after himself.

Kurt pulls a thread tight, snips it off and gives a satisfied hum as he inspects his work. Then he says casually, ‘I’m not really used to being alone for a whole week. I’m expecting I’ll be pretty lonely all on my own.’

Blaine’s proverbial ears twitch to alert. Carefully, he says, ‘I’m sure Rachel will keep you company.’

After a moment, Kurt says, ‘I’m sure she will. But, uh, Blaine – ‘ He lets out a breath and Blaine watches the way his fingers play restlessly with the skin between his forefinger and thumb. ‘I was actually hoping that _you_ might keep me company, Blaine.’

At those words, Blaine’s heart does victory loops. He hopes that Kurt doesn’t notice the obvious wagging of his tail. ‘Of course, Kurt!’ he exclaims. ‘I’d love to.’

Kurt immediately beams at him, an uninhibited smile that makes creases appear at the corners of his eyes and on the bridge of his nose. Blaine loves that smile. Like sunshine personified.

‘Oh, that’s great!’ Kurt claps his hands together excitedly. ‘Oh, this is going to be so much fun!’ he sings. ‘I have to take you out to a bar, get you proper drunk. I’ve been dying to find out what beneath that dapper 50s gentleman act you’ve got going on right now.’

‘I’m affronted that you think it’s an act,’ Blaine grins. His inner teenager girl glows under the fact that Kurt has been _thinking_ about him. ‘I am the most transparent of people.’

Kurt rolls his eyes at him. ‘You’re an _actor,_ Blaine. I’ll text you a time and place and we can meet up?’

Blaine hopes his grin isn’t too wide. ‘I look forward to it.’

\--

Blaine is an idiot. Blaine is officially dubbed the biggest idiot in the whole of Los Angeles and he expects his trophy to arrive on the doorstep any day now.

Blaine is freaking out.

When he pulls up the courage to step inside the club, he stands a little awkwardly to the side and tugs at his blazer to stop it from itching at his collar. Back home, his room is a mess of haphazardly thrown clothing – pants and bowties and button ups tossed carelessly over his furniture. There’s a brogue sitting lonely on his bedside table and a blue polo hanging lazily from the corner of his dresser. Blaine will kick himself for the mistreatment later on, but right now he’s too frazzled to care.

After much painful deliberation, he’d decided on a nice plaid button up under a pale blazer over a pair of slim fit Capri’s. It isn’t so different from what he normally puts on, but he supposes that’s the consequence for making sure to be presentable every day.

Not that it really matter what you look like, he reminds himself sternly. Because you’re having a casual drink with a friend, not a damn proposal.

This bar is louder than they were back in Ohio. People crowd every table and the murmur of talk is as present as an extra conversation partner. The place is modern, sleek, with shiny tables and interestingly obscure glass fixtures on the wall. Blaine isn’t one to judge, but he can’t help but feel that the place reeks of pretension – was it really necessary to have blue lights instead of normal yellow? He looks like Mystique and he knows for a fact that he can’t pull off the whole sexy shapeshifter alien vibe. And seriously, that glass statuette looks like some kind of writhing tentacle monster. The artist should be sued.

Blaine’s nerves may be getting to him just a little bit.

He runs his hands over his hair and looks around for Kurt who, as it turns out, has already arrived. It’s amazing how much calmer Blaine feels at just the sight of Kurt’s familiar face, like cool water running over his hands, and he recognises some of his own nervous energy in the way Kurt is twisting his hands together on the tabletop in front of him, his lip caught between his teeth as he watches his own fingers turn. Blaine watches him for a moment in his corner by the door, watches the way the wrinkles in his forehead smooth out as he takes a deep breath, the way his chest expands and releases and his eyes flutter open with a new calmness. Kurt, of course, manages to looks effortlessly sexy under the stupid space age lighting scheme.

When Kurt spots him, Blaine’s stomach flips at the way his smile lights up his whole face. ‘Blaine!’ he says and stands up to grab Blaine into a hug that presses Blaine’s face right into his neck, his hands gripping tightly at his shoulders. He pulls back to inspect Blaine and smiles approvingly. ‘I like your outfit. Very gentleman chic.’

Kurt pulls Blaine down to sit with him before he has the chance to reply – ‘ _I like your outfit too, but I feel like your collarbones are really going to be a distracting point of the evening’_ – and says, ‘So, what do you think of this place?’

Blaine really has always been far too eager to please. ‘I think it’s great,’ he lies.

Kurt raises his eyebrows at him. ‘You think? I would have pinned you for something a little more homely. Less... sparse, I suppose.’ He looks around the place and wrinkles his nose. ‘I haven’t been here before. Sebastian told me it was the height of class, but apparently we have different definitions of the word because all I can see is pretentious facial hair and enough glass to rebuild the Louvre Pyramid.’

‘You listened to Sebastian?’ Blaine asks with no little amount of surprise, because he’s pretty sure the whole of LA is aware of the animosity between the two of them. He can’t even count the amount of times he’s listened to Kurt snarl vicious comments about his co-star under his breath while he hands Blaine his clothes for the day. In fact, Kurt is more likely to refer to Sebastian as Blaine’s ‘meerkat lover boy’ than he is by his name.

Kurt rolls his eyes. ‘Please don’t remind me of my shame. I won’t make the same mistake twice.’

They order their drinks a couple of minutes later and then they settle down to chat. There’s a nervous energy between them while they approach their conversation; the atmosphere teeters on the brink between comfortable and awkward while the two of them try out this new dynamic tentatively, poking and prodding at the point in which a work friendship slips into something bigger, when two people seek each other out based on something more than just inescapable proximity.

Blaine is probably being a drama queen, but he feels as though this evening is somehow monumentally important, as though if it goes wrong then that will be the end of Blaine’s days lazing around in the back of Kurt’s trailer, the end of Kurt’s easy company. The idea upsets him more than it should and he realises that like it or not, this connection he feels to Kurt already puts them beyond work friends – this is just acknowledgment of the fact. Somehow, that makes it even more important that the night go well.

Blaine spends the first half hour quizzing Kurt on all aspects of his life that they never got around to talking about. Any pets as a child? ( _No, my dad’s allergic to most kinds of fur. So are my clothes._ ) Career aspirations as a kid? _(I wanted to be a Disney princess.)_ Still in touch with any friends from high school? _(Mostly Rachel, but there are still my girls that I keep up with._ ) That last one launches a tangent about Kurt’s experiences with a younger Rachel Berry, complete with dramatic storm outs and soliloquies about her inevitable stardom. Blaine listens and tries not to rest his hand on his chin and sigh like he’s lovesick while Kurt animates his conversation with lively hand gestures and keeps giving little half laughs whenever he amuses himself.

They order another round of drinks and Blaine asks ‘Dream job?’ and Kurt cocks his head at him.

‘Why are we playing twenty questions?’

‘Isn’t that what people do when they want to get to know each other?’

Kurt shrugs. ‘My general approach is to crack awkward jokes for a while and hope my partner finds it endearing rather than annoying.’

‘I think it’s cute,’ Blaine murmurs without thinking and Kurt’s eyes immediately drop as his cheeks pinken.

‘Oh,’ Kurt says.

Blaine clears his throat hurriedly and looks down. ‘I’m – I mean, I just think it’s a very, um, charming is all.’

Kurt looks at him for a long, calculating moment and Blaine fidgets with the napkin in his lap and doesn’t meet his eyes. Eventually, Kurt says, ‘Okay,’ and then goes on to talk about how he always thought he’d want to be on Broadway throughout high school until he stumbled upon costume design in college, which he calls a happy medium of fashion and theatre. Nothing changes at all – but now when Kurt looks at him from underneath his lashes, it doesn’t feel like an unconscious gesture. And when Blaine reaches across to grip at Kurt’s arm for emphasis, he allows his hand to linger longer than strictly necessary. The air is suddenly charged with something more than nervous energy; an anticipation almost, a waiting.

After a time, alcohol smoothes the way of their talk and Blaine’s interview-like questions eventually give way to a more natural conversation that meanders and dips and volleys. They talk over each other and laugh loud enough to gain disapproving looks from some nearby patrons, which makes them giggle and hush just long enough before a new topic catches their fancy and their conversation picks up speed again, fast and fleeting as a rabbit race.

‘My husband and I don’t really dance,’ Kurt laughs at one point, a peculiar staccato lilt that Blaine immediately falls in love with. ‘You should have seen the first dance at our wedding. Lots of butt wiggling and shimmying and permanently scarred guests.’

Ten minutes later they’re deep in discussion over Blaine’s success in Free Heart and Blaine is half way through talking about how he can’t believe everyone seems to like him so much when Kurt lets out a loud snort and asserts, ‘Of course lots of people watched! Because lots of people love you.’

‘Not that many people,’ Blaine says, amused.

‘Please,’ Kurt scoffs. ‘Like anyone doesn’t love you. You’re the ultimate loveable person. You make people sick with your likeability. You charm old ladies and street punks in the same sentence.’ His head thunks down onto the table and Blaine winces at the audible thump.

They people watch and they judge and Blaine finds himself laughing far too loudly at Kurt’s snarky comments. ‘My god, fedora, chunky glasses, struggling goatee _and_ an oversized out of season sweater? I don’t know what I could say that could truly encompass _that_ particular trainwreck.’ Then immediately after, ‘Oh my god, did someone actually go at those jeans with a damn knife?’

They order more drinks in obnoxious colours and Kurt is flushed and sweaty and grinning brightly and he only smiles wider at the way Blaine sputters when he attempts to take a shot of some anonymous neon liquid.

The more Kurt drinks, the less self aware he seems to become. He stares at Blaine, curious and catlike, while Blaine tells stories of his adventures in private school, and Blaine lets his eyes travel over his long body when he stretches over his chair to get closer. Blaine marvels at this new physicality of his, so loose and languid like every bone in his body has been liquidised. Kurt normally moves as though he controls every step he takes, as though he plans every movement of his muscles in advance. Now, he’s a pliable as soft rubber. Blaine likes it.

By the time they’ve been talking for three hours and the bar starts to empty out, Blaine is feeling high on alcohol and happiness. Kurt has dragged his chair around to sit closer to Blaine and has his hand resting on Blaine’s wrist while he stares intently at Blaine, as though there is nothing more important in the world than what he is talking about right at this moment. Only Blaine has forgotten what he’s talking about at this moment. At some point in Kurt’s speech he got distracted by the way Kurt’s tongue looks when it darts out to wet his lips every couple of minutes.

It’s gone one o’clock by the time the bartender finally approaches their table and tells them that it’s time to clear out. They stumble onto the street, giggling and breathless, grasping at each other’s shoulders for balance and tripping over their own feet. They stagger away down the street, too drunk and too excited, babbling over the top of each other as they pass underneath the blessedly yellow street lights.

‘Oh my god – Oh my god – ‘ Kurt gasps and brings his hands up to emphasise his point. ‘You did _what?’_

Blaine howls with laughter. Somehow, despite the debilitating embarrassment it had caused at the time, it is the funniest thing he’s thought about all night. ‘I sang to him!’ he cries. ‘In the middle of some dirty GAP in the middle of Ohio. And then he got fired and I have _never_ been so humiliated.’

Kurt pats at his arm sympathetically, but his giggles lessen the effect of his comfort. ‘Oh, I’m sorry honey,’ he says altogether too gleefully and rests his head on Blaine’s shoulder in consolidation. He runs a finger under his eye to catch any escaped moisture. ‘For the record, I would have _killed_ for someone to have serenaded me in high school.’

‘I’ll build a time machine,’ Blaine assures him. Then, in the way people do when they’re too drunk to hold a single conversation, he moans, ‘Oh god, there aren’t even any taxis along here.’

‘Irresponsible,’ Kurt tuts in agreement. ‘I live right round the corner. Wanna crash?’

Blaine is pretty sure that that is literally the best idea he’s ever heard in his whole life. ‘You, sir,’ he announces grandly, ‘are an angel come to visit us weaklings and I thank you dearly.’

Kurt laughs and bumps his hip off of Blaine’s and with his heart pounding in anticipation, Blaine follows him home.

\--

It’s in the darkness of Kurt’s house that it happens.

Kurt’s home is comfortable and lived in. It’s also full of his husband. The mantle on the wall of the living room is full of pictures of Kurt, with a giant with an affable smile that Blaine recognises as his brother, of another older man wearing a baseball cap and a hand clamped firmly around a grinning Kurt’s shoulder – clearly his father. And there, front and centre, is another of Kurt, gorgeous in a suit and boutonniere, his arms draped loosely over the shoulders of another suited man, blonde and strong jawed, as the two stare into each others’ eyes. Adam, obviously. Blaine feels vaguely sick staring at the photo while Kurt sluggishly prepares the couch for sleep, and from the tightness in his throat he knows it isn’t the drink catching up with him.

By the door is a pair of shoes far too ragged to ever belong to Kurt. There’s a pot of half drunk tea on the kitchen bench and Blaine knows that Kurt’s loyalties lie solely with coffee; he can’t imagine Kurt ever being interested in the Big Bang Theory DVD on the couch’s arm and he’d eat his _own_ hat if that discarded beanie belongs to Kurt. Everywhere, permeating the house as solidly as Kurt’s own presence (spotless floor and kitchen; the Judy Garland record hung on the wall; the houndstooth patterning on the couch), Adam is there. Blaine is sure that if he were to go to the bedroom where Kurt disappears to grab a sheet, he would only find more evidence of a life shared by two.

Blaine is completely unprepared for the jolt of possession, fast and hot as lightning, that shocks through him at the thought of Kurt in the arms of another man. He knows it’s selfish, he knows it’s rude, he knows he has absolutely no right to it, and yet - he _doesn’t want_ Kurt loving another man. He doesn’t want Kurt living happily married. He doesn’t wantKurt with Adam. Blaine wants Kurt with _him._

Blaine _wants_ Kurt. Lusts after him in hard, blinding desire, wants to own him and belong to him and love him. He wants to make him laugh like no one else can, make him smile in a way that he doesn’t at anybody else, spend those mornings of domesticity with him, quietly and sleepily content, because of him. And he wants to fuck Kurt, long nights spent with his own hand flashing at him like photographs on a reel, wants to see that arch of his spine, to learn every inch of his skin, he wants to feel the heat of his skin so close to his own. Through the fuzzy drunkenness of his own mind, sharp as cut glass, Blaine wants him.

On the other side of the room Kurt re-enters, linen piled high in arms that aren’t quite steady, his head just barely peeking over the top of the pile. He drops the pile onto the couch right next to Blaine, stares at it for a long moment as though not quite sure what to do with it. Blaine watches him and can’t quite keep his eyes off the sharp slant of his cheekbones, or the way the antique lamp light sets his hair a soft bronze.

Kurt spends a few seconds fiddling hopelessly with the sheets, and then looks at Blaine. He just... looks at him. Blaine looks back and in the lamp light, Kurt’s eyes are the colour of hazy forests at dusk. The moment hangs between them, quiet and unadorned, fragile as a spider’s spun web.

Blaine isn’t thinking. It’s what he will say to himself later, a lame justification that means nothing, but he’ll say it all the same. He was drunk, at the tail end of a wonderful night out, and Blaine’s not thinking. He can’t, not when Kurt is standing so close to him and his smell is intoxicating and his eyes are mesmerising and Blaine _wants_ him – and he’s just not thinking.

He kisses Kurt, hard and deep, too drunk for any kind of finesse or grace. He winds an arm around Kurt’s waist and pulls him close, another arm at the small of his back, kisses him harder, and he feels the way Kurt tenses under Blaine’s grabbing hands and hisbreath cuts off sharply while his hands come up in surprise. He makes a little noise in the back of his throat, a tiny squeak of shock muffled beneath Blaine’s mouth. Blaine pulls back and waits for the rejection and the rough hands shoving him away, the raised voices and barbed words, because he knows he just fucked up, knows that what he just did was so very far from okay and he feels sick with the trepidation. But Kurt stays still in his arms, wide eyed and breathing hard as he stares at Blaine. His entire body is vibrating – Blaine can feel it. The moment is frozen, delicate, and the only sound is their panted breaths.

Then Kurt’s hand comes up to pull at his jaw, run his fingers over the beginning hints of stubble, and he’s kissing back, fast and hungry and rough. He pulls Blaine’s bottom lip in between his own, nips at it with two front teeth, and Blaine feels the shock right through his body.

Kurt’s arms are strong around Blaine’s neck, tugging him stumbling and eager to the couch where they collapse on top of the still folded sheets, Blaine’s body heavy and solid over Kurt’s, pressing him into the cushions. Kurt’s lips are hard against his own, electric and warm and addictive. Blaine moans low in his throat at the tongue slipping along the crease of his mouth. His body drops boneless onto Kurt’s.

His mind is sparking and rushed and so confused, but far too distracted to try and stop and think right at this moment, because every nerve ending in his body is firing and he can feel Kurt’s lean chest against his own, his thigh drawn up next to him, his fingers exploring curious over the grooves of his spine. His insistent cock presses hard at Blaine’s hip and when Blaine shifts and their cocks line up, the white hot starburst of pleasure makes his eyes roll back in his skull.

Kurt pulls away from Blaine’s mouth, throws his head back and pants while Blaine nuzzles at his jaw, sucks wet open mouthed kisses down the long length of his neck. He jolts when Blaine sets to work on his beating pulse, whines when Blaine only sucks harder and his hand jerks up to wind itself tight in his curls. ‘Fuck,’ he pants.

Blaine rolls his body down onto Kurt and again he feels that flash of heat when his cock rubs against Kurt’s, sparking up against the friction of the layers of fabric between them. Kurt’s hips begin moving, a rolling and jerking and stuttering rhythm up against Blaine’s own. His hand is still gripping at Blaine’s hair and now he tugs Blaine from the crook of his neck back to his mouth where he kisses him persistent and keen. They’re too drunk, too uncoordinated to ever take any control of their movements, to try and balance their ruts in time with one another, and somehow it’s even hotter when they connect on random thrusts. Every cut off rush of pleasure adds to the swirling bank of heat in the pit below his stomach, building and growing and itching for release.

Blaine is so hot and Kurt is burning up underneath him too, his entire body feels like a furnace and Blaine can’t control his breath. He can feel his own body shaking and sweating while his ruts fall even further out of control as the curling heat in his stomach rises rapidly.

He comes and his muscles snap tense, his hips jerking while his fingers and toes rigid and he groans and allows the rushing wave of pleasure overwhelm him. Kurt moans underneath him and when Blaine collapses on top of him, he comes too.

Blaine is already slipping into sleep, so tired and content after his orgasm that he can’t even keep his eyes open. His mind is calmer now, no longer racing and jumping too fast for him to keep up, but still thrumming with happiness and satisfaction. Underneath him still, Kurt yawns and kisses quick and closed mouth at his clavicle. His hand strokes lazily across Blaine’s waist up to his shoulder. Blaine smiles, and goes to sleep.

\--

He wakes when Kurt dumps him roughly onto the rug below the couch.

His brain immediately complains loudly. Above him, Kurt is already up and moving while Blaine’s head thuds dully against his footsteps, muted and deep and unpleasant. He groans.

Kurt’s footsteps get close again, quick and clipped on the floor, and Blaine’s head beats in time with the vibrations through the wood.

Last night hangs heavy in his mind. He remembers everything that they did - the long night spent laughing and chatting with Kurt in a bar that neither of them liked, how he had followed Kurt home to sleep, the way Kurt had looked at him in the moments before - well. Yes, he remembers everything about last night. His mouth still tingles when he thinks about Kurt's lips against his. The happiness settles over him like a blanket and he smiles as his fingers wind through the twine fringing of the rug.  
  
Then Kurt snaps, 'Get up,' and his voice is as cold and expressionless as gunmetal and Blaine begins to realise that maybe things aren't as nice as he thinks they should be.  
  
Blaine hauls himself onto his back and blinks his eyes blearily open against the really far-too-bright sunlight. Kurt is silhouetted above him, a severe figure of authority with his hands on his hips and his body held stiff and formal. Somehow, even with his face blocked out in black he strikes an imposing figure.  
  
He yanks the still folded sheets violently out from underneath Blaine. 'Get _up_.'  
  
Blaine wobbles to his feet and a stumbles unsteadily over to the kitchen bar where he collapses onto the stool. He is aware, now that his brain is beginning to wake up, of the implications of what happened last night. His pants are crusted uncomfortably on the insides - he didn't have the self awareness last night to be embarrassed about coming in his pants for the first time since he was a teenager, but now he flushes at the thought. And Kurt is in an incendiary mood, obviously, and Blaine doesn't blame him. Kurt cheated on his husband last night and Blaine, Blaine was his accomplice. Blaine was the instigator, he was the one who kissed first, and the guilt floods him hot and unpleasant. He drops his head to his hand and moans.  
  
When Blaine was seventeen, he found his first boyfriend in a college freshman named Jeremiah. He’d had the most amazing hair and stunning eyes and Blaine had immediately toppled into infatuation with his casual confidence. Jeremiah was older and so _cool_ and Blaine had been too naive to recognise his disinterest. He had played with Blaine like a cat’s toy, let him believe that he loved Blaine too, but it really shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise to walk into his house three months after they became exclusive to find Jeremiah in the arms of another man. They’d split that day and slipped out of each others’ lives too quickly to say goodbye. The memory settles ugly in Blaine’s gut, and he swallows hard. Jeremiah’s cheating had destroyed him as easy as paper crushed in the palm of a hand; he can’t imagine how hard it would be to face infidelity after promising lifelong trust to one another.

Kurt broke that trust the moment he kissed Blaine last night. Blaine turns to face him and is immediately cowed at the stormy expression on his face, dark and angry and violent. He watches him bite his lip, the beginning of angry tears turning his eyes glassy, and knows that Kurt understands that too.

And yet somehow, even with the phantom hurt twinging uncomfortably in his stomach, Blaine can’t seem to find it within himself to regret what they did. Intellectually, he feels remorse. Blaine is a homewrecker, apparently, which he never thought would be a label applied to himself. It’s not a nice feeling. But an insidious voice in the back of his mind whispers that if Kurt and Adam had had such a wonderful marriage, Kurt would never have got off with him. Nobody cheats on their spouse if they’re totally content. Things like that just don’t happen. And even deeper buried in his mind, Blaine can’t help but feel a sharp spike of triumph. Because this man that he’s been crushing on for weeks just reciprocated his feelings, no matter how drunk – it happened. Blaine won last night; he got _exactly_ what he’d been hoping for.

‘You have to go,’ Kurt says. His voice is cracked like brittle glass. He strides over to stand behind the kitchen bar like a defence barrier and folds his arms tight over his chest, holds himself tall with his chin raised and his shoulders taut. Blaine wonders exactly what Kurt is protecting himself from. ‘I’ll um, I’ll call a cab and you can get your stuff and – and then you need to go, okay?’

Blaine bites his lip. He says, ‘Kurt – ‘

Kurt says, ‘ _No._ Please just go. Please.’

Blaine takes a step towards him and Kurt steps back, practiced as a dance. Blaine watches the way his lips press so tight to stop them from quivering, the way Kurt’s arms pull at his sides as though he is physically holding himself together right now, as though if he lets go his whole being will shatter over the floor. But he can’t help the hair-fine fissures that appear in his composure, like cracks fanning over time-wearied porcelain. Blaine watches Kurt, who has always been so effortlessly poised and comfortable, fight for control over himself, and he feels sad.

And yet. ‘Kurt, we need to talk about what happened last night – ‘

Kurt exhales, loud and heavy. He says, and his voice is unnervingly calm, ‘As far as I am concerned, last night didn’t happen.’

Blaine continues doggedly on, ‘Well, lucky for you there were two of us involved last night and I remember everything, so – ‘

‘ _Blaine,’_ Kurt interrupts harshly and closes his eyes tight. ‘I swear to god, Blaine, I am about to have a complete mental breakdown in the next minute if you don’t _stop talking – ‘_

‘But we _need_ to talk about it!’

‘No, we don’t!’ Kurt cries finally, and those cracks of composure splinter into full blown gouges. His eyes flare open wide, shining with unshed tears. On the kitchen bench, his hands are curled into fists so tight that Blaine knows that his nails in his palm must be painful. ‘We _don’t_ and we _can’t_ because I am married! You don’t have any idea what commitment that entails, do you? Nothing can happen, Blaine!’ He shrugs helplessly and after the explosion a moment before, his next words seem especially soft. ‘Nothing can happen.’

Blaine replies equally quiet, ‘Something’s already happened, Kurt. Whether you choose to acknowledge that or not is up to you.’

Kurt’s eyes close again and a single tear slips out from underneath his lashes, His head drops low to his chest and in that moment, he looks so defeated, so sad, that Blaine’s chest aches to hold him. Even in the morning after, his hair dishevelled and skin grey with tiredness, he is heartbreakingly beautiful. Deflated, broken, but beautiful.

Eventually Kurt speaks, absentmindedly as though he almost forgot that Blaine was there. He says quietly, ‘Do you want to know what the worst part is?’ A humourless laugh and a tiny shake of his head and then even quieter, ‘The worst part is that I don’t even regret it.’

Something in Blaine stops. In his chest, new life breathes into the spark of hope that had been doused in their argument. ‘Why not?’ he asks carefully.

Kurt is silent for a long time as he stares at his hands before him. Finally, he whispers, ‘I don’t know.’

‘I don’t regret it either,’ Blaine says after a moment and Kurt’s mouth twists in some approximation of a smile and he says wanly, ‘You’re not married, Blaine.’ He shakes his head, frowns. Slowly, like trying to talk through a puzzle, he says, ‘I feel bad. I do, I really do, I – I know what I’ve done and I know I have no excuse and I feel _awful – ‘_

Kurt draws in a shaky breath, looks right at Blaine for maybe the first time all morning, his eyes disarmingly blue ringed with red. Blaine’s breath catches in his throat. ‘So why is it,’ Kurt says in a voice that trembles, ‘that all I want to do is kiss you again?’

The two of them are quiet then, just looking at one another, watching and waiting. Blaine watches the way Kurt’s chest jumps with irregular little hicks, eventually smoothing into calmer breathing, and Kurt watches the way Blaine watches him. Outside, a bird calls a sweet greeting to another and they hear a child’s delighted laughter in response. In that moment it seems hard to imagine life simply carrying on, as it always must do.

Eventually, Blaine says, ‘You know you can kiss me if you want to.’

‘I want to,’ Kurt replies.

In the end, Kurt steps out from behind his kitchen bench and walks towards Blaine slowly. His protective armour slips from his shoulders as he goes and when he stops just inches away, he is as vulnerable as Blaine has ever seen him. Blaine can’t seem to stop looking at his lips.

This time when they kiss, it feels more like a first time than last night ever had. Slow and deep and gentle, Kurt pulls Blaine’s body close to his, slides his arms around his shoulders and steps so that his feet crowd in around Blaine’s. Blaine feels the kiss right through his body and the knot in his chest slips loose as he relaxes into it, allows himself to get lost in the feeling of kissing and allowing himself to be kissed. Kurt’s lips are soft on his, his body is so warm and his grip is strong and sure.

When the kiss ends, Kurt’s eyelashes are still wet with tears but his cheeks are dry and his smile is steady. ‘Is this happening?’ he asks.

‘I think it is,’ Blaine responds, and in the quiet Sunday morning they while away their hours with soft kisses and touches and in the end, neither of them regret a thing.


	2. Chapter 2

Monday morning, Blaine has an interview. It’s some upbeat, preppy magazine that his agent set him up with at five o’clock the previous afternoon and he can barely keep his eyes open throughout, blinking sleepily and valiantly attempting to match the interviewer’s blinding bright grin. He answers the questions on autopilot, already used to the rote and unimaginative things that the public apparently want to know and in his head he relives his day with Kurt over and over again. He answers a question about attending a boarding school, and in his mind Kurt’s smile flashes wide and uncontained. The soundtrack of Kurt’s laugh plays on repeat as a backing track to his day, and he can’t seem to stop thinking about the way his eyes had look when he’d looked up at Blaine, soft and gentle and unguarded. It’s all very distracting.

At one point, the interviewer pulls out questions from Twitter for him to answer. The first one jolts him out of his reverie quite successfully.

‘ _You and Sebastian Smythe have incredible chemistry on screen. Does it continue off screen as well? #pleasesayyes’_

Blaine blinks. ‘Oh,’ he says stiltedly. ‘Well, um. You know, Sebastian and I get on great and all but if you’re implying what I think you’re implying, I, um, don’t think that’s on the tables yet. Or... ever.’ He smiles awkwardly.

The interviewer makes a big show of acting like the world is ending. ‘Well, I hope that means that you’re already taken!’ she cries. ‘Because nothing else would do if not you and hunky Sebastian.’

Blaine wonders if he is taken, actually. Maybe more so emotionally, he thinks to himself, and answers with a simple _no_ and a smile that he hopes lets her know that he wants to move on. (Politely, of course.)

When he gets out of the interview midmorning, he has three scenes to film before the day’s out. That means three costumes, he thinks giddily to himself, and three chances to see Kurt again. His heart hums happily.

When he opens the door to costumes Kurt is bent over, searching for something in the bottom of a filing draw as he hums quietly to himself, and Blaine allows himself to appreciate the view before reaching forward and grabbing Kurt around the waist.

Kurt starts and squeaks before spinning in Blaine’s arms, a grin lighting his face as soon as he sees who it is. ‘Blaine!’ he says.

‘Hey, there,’ Blaine replies and tugs Kurt closer to himself, pulls him so that their hips are flush together. Kurt goes pink.

‘I didn’t think I was going to see you today,’ Kurt says, his voice delighted while Blaine tucks his face into his neck, noses at his pulse point curiously. ‘PA said you had – oh – press work.’

Blaine presses a quick kiss to the skin underneath his lips and mumbles, ‘Only in the morning. Was thinking about you – ‘ _kiss ‘ –_ the whole – ‘ _kiss ‘_ – time.’ _Kiss._

Kurt swallows hard and says breathily, ‘What kind of things?’

‘Sexy things,’ Blaine murmurs, distracted, and smiles when Kurt huffs out a laugh.

‘Okay, Mr Caveman,’ he says easily, then abruptly shuts his mouth when Blaine pushes him back against the wall, shoulders pressed solidly against the thin metal of the trailer. ‘Oh. Uh.’

Blaine drags his lips up, kisses at the jumping pulse point underneath Kurt’s ear. ‘Was thinking about the way you look when you come,’ he says. ‘How beautiful you are.’ His mouth moves to Kurt’s jawline. ‘How good you smell. Everything, Kurt, just – everything.’

Kurt’s hand comes up to rest around Blaine’s bicep, still just the slightest bit tentative even as Blaine’s kisses moves closer to his mouth. Blaine doesn’t care, kisses him anyway, and it’s like coming home, grounding him already even as Kurt hesitates just a second before he kisses back. They part and Blaine whispers heavily, ‘I want you, Kurt, so bad.’

Kurt swallows again, his eyes fluttering shut and open again. ‘Right now?’ he breathes.

Blaine wants to. God, does he want to. He imagines how it would be, to do it with Kurt while anyone could walk by outside, while the door remains open and anybody could come in and catch them. The thought is startlingly pleasing and his pants tighten a little more. They could do it, right here with Kurt trapped against the wall, and god knows _everybody_ would know if they stayed up against this flimsy metal, everybody would _hear,_ and the thought thrills him –

In the privacy of his own home, Blaine can indulge in any fantasies he wants. In his mind, he and Kurt are free to do whatever they want, whenever they want, but in real life they have responsibilities and tasks to attend to, not to mention an affair to keep quiet. The disappoint wilts his excitement and he sighs, stepping backwards to give Kurt air to breathe.

Kurt blinks at him, cocks his head just a little. ‘Not right now, then, I’m guessing,’ he says a little dry.

Blaine mouth twists in a rueful smile. ‘I have a scene to get to in fifteen minutes,’ he says, ‘and you have to dress me for that scene.’

‘You don’t think this sordid relationship of ours is worth putting our jobs at risk?’ Kurt challenges, but the raise of his eyebrow is playful and Blaine grins.

‘Maybe in a couple of months, dear,’ he replies. ‘In the meantime, I have to undress in order to get into character. Want to help me with that?’

Kurt’s eyes go dark. ‘Well, when you put it that way,’ he says huskily and Blaine just can’t stop smiling as he tugs his polo over his head.

Blaine doesn’t get to speak to Kurt at all for the rest of the day. When he goes to see him for his costume changes he has an assistant with him both times, whom he speaks to with quiet, sure authority that makes Blaine dizzy while he hands Blaine his costumes with a small, secret smile. Blaine just watches the fan of his eyelashes and cherishes the jolts of warmth whenever Kurt’s hand brushes his. But his heart still aches and he scolds himself for getting so attached already. He should force himself to remain detached, because this is some illicit affair with a married man which will more than likely last a week before he loses interest, and if Blaine lets himself fall too hard too fast, he will be left heartbroken and desperate while Kurt carries on with life as usual. He tells himself this and he knows that it is true, but he also knows that it’s already too late. Sunday had been the most perfect day and Blaine is already gone, has been long before he and Kurt ever kissed. Because after all, when has the heart ever listened to the head?

At home, Cooper is lounging on the couch with a muted TV and his laptop balanced on his chest. He looks up with a bright grin when Blaine walks in, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door as he goes.

‘Blainey!’ he says. ‘How was work?’

Cooper didn’t have any scenes to do today, and is sure to let Blaine know it.

‘It was fine,’ Blaine answers. ‘Long, I guess.’

Cooper makes falsely sympathetic tutting noises and then grins at Blaine, waggling his eyebrows. ‘I liked your interview, though.’

Blaine’s eyebrows snap low. ‘How did you know about that?’

Cooper’s grin widens. ‘The internet is no place for privacy, squirt!’ he sings. ‘Your fangirls have been creaming their pants all day. They liked the part where you sang. Lots of talk about ovaries exploding and such.’ He pauses. ‘But I think your general existence does that to them on a daily basis.’

Blaine scowls and trudges over to the fridge to grab some water. ‘Like your fans don’t act the same way, Coop.’

Cooper continues on, blithely unaware of Blaine’s interjection. ‘Look, listen to this – ‘ _his ass deserves the honour of its own tag’ –_ oh, and ‘ _this handsome motherfucker with his puppy eyes and big grin like what a fucking life ruiner_ ,’ I like that one. Oh and here’s just a string of gibberish, that’s interesting...’

Blaine moans and rests his head between his hands on the kitchen counter. ‘Cooper, come on.’

‘It’s very important to keep up with what your fans are saying about you, Blaine,’ Cooper says seriously. His smile turns sly. ‘Besides, I was trawling the blogs for reviews of my latest performance and I stumbled upon an impressively well written pornographic piece about you and yours truly and – ‘

‘That’s it!’ Blaine says loudly and smacks his hands down on the counter as he stands straight. ‘You are being gross and I am going to my room.’

The door cuts off Cooper’s pleas to come back with a sharp snap and Blaine stands still for a moment, allows himself to breathe in the quiet of his bedroom. After the intensity of Cooper’s entire existence, the peace of silence has come to be something that Blaine never thought he would value as much as he does.

After a moment, he sits on the bed and thinks. His hands play restlessly with his phone, pushing it back and forth between his fingers for a moment before he unlocks his screen.

He texts Kurt, _Did you get home safely?_

From Kurt Hummel: _Of course. Traffic is too slow to be dangerous. And you?_

From Blaine Anderson: _Fine. Kind of wishing I stayed at work, though – Cooper is in a Mood._

From Kurt Hummel: _A mood?_

From Blaine Anderson: _A Mood. Capital M. He tried to tell me about fanfiction between me and him._

From Kurt Hummel: _Ouch. Would you like me to be your therapist, baby?_

The pet name makes Blaine shiver, his fingers tightening around the edges of his phone. He wonders if Kurt meant it in the way Blaine took it. He swallows.

Better to be safe.

He texts, _Tomorrow? I think I’m literally just going to pass out right now I’m so tired._

Kurt replies, _Going to sleep at nine? Well at least your dress sense reflects your apparent age, Benjamin Button._

Blaine laughs quietly and says, _Goodnight, Kurt._

_Goodnight, Blaine._

_< 3_

\--

On Saturday, Blaine and Kurt go shopping. It’s the first time they’ve hung out since last week when everything came to a head and Blaine is feeling more nervous than he should be. But he’d been helpless to resist Kurt’s coy looks and lowered lashes, so when Kurt had declared that he wanted to take Blaine for some real shopping, all big eyes and cheeky grin, he’d said yes without ever thinking.

He wonders if it’s a date. Their own unique approximation of a date anyway, he thinks to himself. Since they can’t actually be like normal people who date and kiss and generally act nauseatingly cutesy, obviously. But then, this is about sex for Kurt; maybe Blaine is falling so much harder than he should be for someone who will almost definitely break his heart in the near future, but this is about the physical nature for Kurt and he knows it. He can see it in the way Kurt can’t keep his eyes off Blaine’s lips when they talk, they way his hands linger ever longer whenever he passes him clothing.

Blaine is a warm body for Kurt to get off with, since apparently Adam isn’t cutting it. That’s all.

Which doesn’t stop his heart from flipping frantically, helpless as a fish gasping for air out of water, every single time he sees Kurt. Kurt, with his endearingly imperfect teeth and snub nose and elf ears and eyes that captivate Blaine even now. Blaine is lost in what he feels for Kurt, his emotions spinning wildly out of control like he’s stuck on a raft in the middle of roaring rapids – and everywhere he looks are the metaphorical rocks of heartbreak. He finds himself day dreaming in the middle of set during downtime of all the things he would like to do for Kurt, all the ways he wants to make him happy, make him love him back. He could sing to him, serenade him just like Kurt had said he would love last week. Or he could bring him flowers and chocolate every day of the week, his own personal Valentines celebration. He could take him out into the hills surrounding LA one night and they could have a picnic under the stars, nothing but them and the quiet of the wilderness.

Blaine is a romantic by nature. Not that he’s any good at it if the past is anything to go by, but his biggest want in all the relationships he’s ever had has just been to make his partner as happy as possible, as perfectly in love as he feels himself. It sits uneasy in his chest that he not allowed to do anything of these things that he wants to do for Kurt _so badly_ and he just can’t, because the way the rest of the world sees it, Blaine is apparently destined to date fucking Sebastian and Kurt is very happily in love with Adam.

The resentment is bitter as bile in his throat and he pushes it down while he waits for Kurt outside the shopping centre. These are the choices you made, he reminds himself. If you didn’t read the small print beforehand, that’s your own damn fault. Get over it Anderson, not everything can go your way.

His thought process is interrupted by the arrival of Kurt with a breathless, ‘Blaine!’ jogging up to him with his hands stuck in his coat pockets and that smile that Blaine loves so dearly spread wide over his face.

‘Hey!’ Blaine says and holds his arms out for a hug. Kurt is warm in his arms and laughs a little when Blaine squeezes him tighter, closer, for just a few more moments.

When he pulls back, Kurt is all business. He says seriously, ‘Okay, Blaine, I’m not saying that your taste in fashion isn’t perfectly respectable, because it is, but I feel that we need to shake things up a bit. You have your first red carpet appearances coming up soon – what are you planning on wearing?’

Blaine knows that he has a red carpet appearance coming up. It’s been itching at the back of his mind for the past couple of weeks; he hasn’t stopped thinking about it. He says, ‘Well I was thinking fairly classic, but with a twist? Maybe a patterned bowtie?’

Kurt smiles. ‘Or a bright coloured vest! Yes, that’s what I was thinking.’ He bounces back on his heels and grins. ‘Well, Mr Anderson – we must find you a suit.’

Half an hour later and Blaine is beginning to realise that shopping with Kurt is less a fun daily outing and more a business trip than anything else. Blaine had always known that Kurt had a sharp eye for fashion – his job itself shows his expertise in clothing and his outfits to work are nothing less than impeccable every day. That said, he’d never realised exactly how seriously Kurt takes this business until he finds himself in their second boutique of the day, trying on his third suit, and just like every other suit, he’s met with pursed lips and the shake of a head.

He throws his arms up. ‘What’s wrong with this one? I like it.’

Kurt tilts his head and flicks one leg over the other, folding his hands over his lap. Carefully, he says, ‘There’s nothing _wrong_ with it, per se. It fits fine. It looks good. But – ‘ He stops. ‘But it’s just not you.’

Blaine’s eyebrows furrow. ‘What’s _me?_ ’

Kurt shrugs and fits his arms around his waist uncomfortably. He shifts in his seat. ‘You know. Classic, wholesome, but interesting. Bright and confident but also a little refined. Sophisticated, but cheerful. That’s you.’

Blaine’s eyebrows raise. ‘That’s the way you see me?’ he asks.

Kurt smiles a little, but doesn’t look up from a spot somewhere around Blaine’s knees, pink faced and unable to sit still. ‘Blaine, that’s the way everyone sees you. That’s why everyone _loves_ you.’ And still, he won’t meet Blaine’s eyes. (It flickers in the back of his mind that maybe this whole thing isn’t just about sex for Kurt after all, but he dismisses the thought before he can let himself get carried away.)

Kurt flicks his hands suddenly, like he can physically wave away his moment of vulnerability. ‘Anyway, point is, these are incredibly boring. This shop sucks. Let’s find another one.’

In the fifth boutique, Blaine is tired enough that even his manners have started to unravel a little, and Kurt became snappish two hours ago. It’s a tiny little store and the only person in there other than them is the worker behind the counter, who watches them with mild interest for only a moment before returning to his magazine. Blaine has just been sent back to the change rooms with orders to try on _this one, it should be perfect, Blaine,_ when Kurt slips in through the door behind him just as he begins to undress.

He spins with a gasp, holds the loose ends of his dress shirt to his chest like a shy maiden. ‘Kurt!’ he hisses, scandalised. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

Kurt effectively manages to silence him with a kiss, dirty and deep as his hands sleep underneath the coat tails of his jacket, warm against Blaine’s back. He mumbles against Blaine’s lips, ‘Look so fucking hot in those suits, Blaine, oh my god.’

Blaine manages to pull back enough to gasp for air while Kurt’s hands play with the waistband of his pants, teasing so close to the top of the curve of his ass. ‘I – _Kurt –_ the shop keeper!’

‘Went to the back room,’ Kurt says as he kisses breathless at Blaine’s jaw. ‘Probably won’t be back for a while.’ His fingers pull out from Blaine’s pants to fiddle with the buttons at the front. He kisses Blaine again, three short little pecks along the curve of his jawline.

Kurt whispers in his ear, low and husky with arousal, ‘Fuck, Blaine, don’t know how anyone can keep their hands off you when you look like this.’ His tongue darts out to flick at the cusp of his ear and Blaine’s knees go weak.

‘Thought you didn’t like any of them,’ he manages to huff out.

‘Oh I didn’t,’ Kurt says, somehow opinionated even as his hand tugs down the zipper of Blaine’s pants. ‘Horrible for you, no personality at all. Still hot as all fuck.’ He smirks at Blaine. ‘Maybe I hate them so much because I’ve been hiding a boner for the past three stores and it’s _all – their – fault.’_

He drops to his knees in front of Blaine and Blaine stops breathing. And, breathing so close to his cock that Blaine can feel it warm through the layers of fabric, he whispers, ‘I want to blow you.’

On his knees, Kurt stares up at Blaine with dark eyes through heavy lashes, and Blaine feels himself harden so fast he feels dizzy as the blood surges. He says through a strangled throat, ‘Jesus Christ, Kurt.’

Kurt watches him with those eyes and reaches up to fit his hand over Blaine’s cock through the fabric, so falsely innocent, an angel lavishing in sin. Blaine bites back a groan when Kurt squeezes, then strokes up and down through his underwear. He waits.

The pressure against his cock is exquisite and Blaine wants it, he wants more, he wants more so badly and even though he can’t quite escape the niggling worry at the back of his mind – because what if the store owners comes back and finds them, Blaine would be _mortified –_ and god knows they might well ruin the suit if this keep this up, but – but –

Then Kurt licks a line straight up the centre of his cock and Blaine just stops think about all of that. 

‘ _Fuck,_ Kurt,’ Blaine babbles. ‘Yes, please, _please,_ do it, do it now, oh my god – ‘

He stops, bangs his head back against the wall as Kurt smiles and pulls his underwear down to his thighs.

He waits a moment as Blaine watches him with wide eyes and his cock springs free of his pants, already flushed dark with blood and glistening at the tip with pre-come. Then, without waiting to tease or draw it out any further, Kurt swallows his cock down.

Blaine’s hips jerk immediately, reflexively, hitting the back of Kurt’s throat before he can stop himself. Kurt’s mouth is tight and warm and wet around his dick and _god,_ it’s been so long since Blaine’s received any kind of proper blowjob.

Kurt’s eyes close as his tongue traces at the veins on the underside of Blaine’s cock, as he pulls up and off until only the head is trapped in that warmth, sucks once, twice, and Blaine jerks helplessly, and then goes down again, as far as he can go without choking on it.

‘Oh, _God,_ Kurt,’ he moans.

Kurt begins a rhythm, bobbing up and down as his hand pulls at the length that he can’t reach with his mouth, his grip tight and sure. There’s no leisure in the way he sucks, fast and hasty, a string of saliva stuck to his chin because there’s no time to be neat or prissy when any moment they could be caught. He doesn’t tease because there’s just no time and Blaine feels the heat begin to build in his abdomen far too soon.

At some point, Blaine realises that he can see himself in the mirror. The changing room is tiny and Kurt’s lovely tapered back is almost pressed against it, but Blaine can see himself, his cheeks flushed and his eyes fluttering half shut while his whole body visibly trembles and below him, Kurt sucks. His dress shirt is wrinkled and his pants fall halfway down his thighs and his hair stick out in spikes of broken hair gel and escaping curls. The sight of it is incredibly erotic in a way Blaine never would have expected and his hips jerk again before he can stop himself. He doesn’t have the voice left to apologise, but Kurt only moans. The vibrations feel amazing, pulling a moan from Blaine in response and he grunts out, ‘Do that again.’

 His cock leaks pre-come steadily now and Kurt is messy because he can’t keep it all in his mouth, eyes still shut while his hand pulls and twists and his head bobs up and down on the length of Blaine’s cock and he moans, low in his throat. Then his eyes snap open again, fix Blaine directly with their bright blue stare, and Blaine is gone.

He comes hard without warning straight into Kurt’s mouth, panting and trembling and trying his hardest to stay upright while his knees threaten to collapse underneath him. Kurt swallows, his mouth tightening around Blaine’s cock, milking every last bit of come possible while Blaine’s fingers scrabble to find purchase on the smooth wall behind him. Then slowly, deliberately, he drags his lips up and off Blaine’s cock with a lewd pop, reaches up with a delicate finger to catch an escaping drop of come, curls his tongue around it back into his mouth. His eyes never leave Blaine’s and Christ, if he could come again so quickly, he would.

In the silence of the aftermath, Blaine struggles to breathe properly and Kurt sits back with a very satisfied smirk, watching him pant his way back to the real world. Eventually, once he can talk properly again, Blaine huffs out, ‘That was not nice, Kurt.’

Kurt grins. He reaches out to tuck Blaine back into his pants and toys with the open flap of his zipper. Then he says, innocent as anything, ‘You know what, I was right. This suit is all wrong.’ He smiles up at Blaine, still on his knees and apparently comfortable. He says sweetly, ‘Come on, babe, we still have more stores to go.’

\--

‘Okay, but get this – there is an entire blog dedicated to pictures of my ass. And the amount of images on it is truly disturbing.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘And most days I’m too scared to go on my Twitter timeline because of all the rabid _Andersmythe_ shippers.’

Kurt stops, pulls a pin from his mouth and frowns at Blaine. ‘I’m sorry, Andersmythe? Shippers?’ His eyes narrow in thought then he shakes his head. ‘No, you’ve totally lost me.’

Blaine rolls his eyes at him. ‘It’s what the fangirls call me and Sebastian. Like Brangelina? The people who want me and Sebastian to be a couple.’

‘Oh.’ Kurt is quiet for a moment as he turns his eyes back to the dress before him and he runs a deft hand over the smooth cotton. After a moment he says, ‘I don’t think I’m an _Andersmythe_ shipper.’

‘No,’ says Blaine speculatively. ‘You’re a... a _Blurt_ shipper.’

Kurt giggles. ‘Party of one, I suppose.’

Blaine laughs and then sighs, drags a hand down his face as he leans back against the trailer walls. Eventually, he says, ‘I mean it’s not like I don’t appreciate their support. And a lot of them are really sweet. It’s just the... you know, the crazy ones.’

‘They’re passionate,’ Kurt murmurs. ‘I mean, it’s not like I don’t understand why they would love you so much.’ He smiles sweetly up at Blaine, who feels his stomach flip.

‘They don’t even know me,’ he argues weakly. ‘They only know what they see in the interviews.’

‘And what they see,’ Kurt says patiently, ‘is a very sweet, intelligent, dedicated young man who deserves all their love they can give. Seems pretty accurate to me.’

‘You’re biased,’ Blaine says. ‘You don’t get an opinion. Besides, I haven’t even told you about the _Cooplaine_ shippers yet.’

‘Coop...’ Kurt’s smile quickly turns horrified. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘Cooper likes to read out his favourite passages of the stories they write whenever I’m around,’ Blaine grumbles, scowling. ‘He takes some perversive pleasure in it, I don’t know. I’m kind of afraid to sleep at night.’

‘Wow.’ Kurt blinks a lot, but before he gets the chance to say anything else, he’s interrupted by a voice at the open trailer door.

‘If you two are done acting like gossiping fishwives,’ Sebastian drawls, leaning against the door frame and folding his arms over his chest, ‘Blaine is due in make up now. And by now I mean five minutes ago.’

Kurt’s mouth snaps shut immediately, his eyebrows snapping down into a deep frown. Blaine bites his lip and thinks privately that it’s a wonder that the two of them can get through a single wardrobe change without ripping each other apart if this is how Kurt reacts to Sebastian’s very presence.

‘I’m just finishing up, Smythe,’ Kurt snaps. ‘Don’t you need to go get make-up to fix your face?’

Sebastian smirks. ‘At least they can do something with mine, Lady. I suppose the reason _you_ work behind the scenes is because not even make-up could make you look less horribly frog-faced.’

Kurt’s eyes flash dangerously and he opens his mouth, no doubt to make a sharp retort, and Blaine decides to cut in. ‘Okay!’ he says loudly, holding up his hands placating, and both Sebastian and Kurt roll their eyes and look away.

Blaine looks at Kurt for a long moment while Kurt stares determinedly at his half finished dress, and wishes that Sebastian would leave for just a moment so he could kiss Kurt goodbye. Unfortunately, Sebastian is apparently feeling particularly obnoxious today, and after a moment clears his throat pointedly, snapping Blaine’s gaze over to him.

‘Right,’ Blaine says hurriedly. ‘Right, yes, let’s go.’ He looks at Kurt again, who only frowns down at the ground. He settles for running his hand along the nape of Kurt’s neck as he passes by him when he walks to Sebastian.

As they cross the lot towards make-up, Blaine can feel Sebastian sending him long looks while he determinedly avoids his gaze, instead choosing to stare at the wildly fascinating asphalt below his feet.

Eventually, Sebastian says, ‘I do hope you know he’s married. God knows who would want to marry that strange cat-turtle hybrid, but it happened. Probably a shotgun wedding in a cheap crack house in Vegas, but it does mean he’s off limits.’ He shrugs. ‘For those of you who are into the whole monogamy thing.’

‘I know,’ Blaine says shortly.

‘Do you, Anderson?’ Sebastian says, and grabs at Blaine’s shoulders to stop his walk. Blaine shrugs him away roughly, but he can’t escape Sebastian’s eyes, flinty and hard as stone. ‘Because you stare at the he-she like he’s the fucking messiah. Your lust for him literally _clogs the air_ with sex whenever you’re within ten feet of each other. It’s _nauseating.’_

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Blaine mutters even as he feels his stomach drop somewhere around the vicinity of his toes.

‘Like hell you don’t,’ Sebastian snaps. ‘The whole fucking crew can see it; you think they don’t gossip about you two whenever you’re out of earshot?’ He sets his jaw and folds his arms tight over his chest while Blaine stares at him and tries not to feel so sick, like bile building in the back of his throat. Sebastian continues, ‘Look, for all I care, the two of you can fuck like rabbits and get him pregnant, fuck knows it’s probably possible, but I’m looking out for you, Blaine. You have a reputation to take care of. A publicity act you need to maintain.’ He runs his eyes over Blaine’s body, over the barely supported jeans and the mesh-leather shirt combo – a stark difference from Blaine’s normal outfits. ‘The media wants you to be the squeaky clean golden boy, so that’s what you’re gonna be. But they’re going to go rabid at the slightest slip up – so maybe you should think about that the next time he’s got your dick down his throat and a ring still on his finger.’

And with that, he spins on his heel and strides away. And Blaine stands in the middle of the empty lot, alone.

\--

Blaine can’t get Sebastian’s words out of his head. They linger and cling to every one of his interactions with Kurt – that scared wonder of _what if._ He knows how the media sees him – charming, sweet, ultimately harmless and utterly straight laced. He’d wonder what their reaction would be if they discovered that he was having an affair with a married man, but he already knows. It would be a blood bath. They’d show up at his house and clog his phone lines looking for an interview and his stainless reputation would be tarnished forever almost before his career began. It would be the focus point of every publicity act he makes for the next year. The idea of it makes him shiver in dismay.

Blaine likes to think that he knows who he is at his core, but four months ago he would have violently protested the idea that he would ever be involved with a married man. Clearly, he’s not as in touch with his own emotions as he thought. It’s just that whenever he’s around Kurt, it’s as though his brain just leaves for a walk around the block and suddenly all his inhibitions are just gone. He’s never been a wild person, always the one to keep people in check when they spin out of control after, say, a night of partying. He’s the rule follower. He even does a cursory check of Terms and Conditions before he signs an agreement.

Then he finds himself during lunch break with one hand shoved down Kurt’s pants and the other held over his mouth to smother his moans while Blaine jerks him off as fast as possible in a dark corner of set, his own hard-on pressing into Kurt’s hip. He begins to think that maybe he should revise that goody two-shoes clause of his character.

Despite all of the many things that could go wrong, Blaine finds himself not caring the moment Kurt pulls him laughing and staggering into a bathroom stall on one of his breaks, or when he breathes heated sentences into his ear even while innocently passing him clothes to change into for the day. It’s almost thrilling, the ever present threat of being caught; he knows he would feel awful should the news leak to the public, but as a fantasy it works in a very strange and illicit way. So fuck Sebastian and his forewarnings. Right now, Blaine thinks he would take a whole year of degradation in the public for one moment of the giddy happiness that Kurt brings him.

Blaine invites Kurt for a walk around the park and as he watches him squat at the edge of the pond to get a closer look at some curious ducks, he realises that he’s in love.

It’s not like it’s a big surprise. He’s been thinking of ‘Kurt’ and ‘love’ in the same sentence for a while now, even if only to reminisce on how much he loves the way Kurt’s nose wrinkles when he hears something he doesn’t like – but this seems different. There’s a divide between loving someone and being _in love_ with them after all and Blaine’s probably been on the other side of the fence for a while now without even realising it. Then, he has a penchant for being wildly oblivious to the obvious, so when his brain finally has the proper words for what he feels, all he can think is, _Of course._

He watches Kurt reach a slender hand towards those ducks over the still dark water, the dappled sunlight through the shade of trees turning his hair a lovely golden brown, his face calm and happy – and yes, of course he is in love. How could he not be when he has this man in front of him, this man who is talented and funny and smart and kind and more beautiful than any other man Blaine has ever known. It just seems so very simple and stunningly obvious all of a sudden and Blaine doesn’t know how he managed to miss it all this time, because _of course_ he is in love with Kurt, and he doesn’t understand why the whole world isn’t. He watches the lovely brightness of Kurt’s startled smile when one of the ducks nips at his finger, feels the affection swell in his chest, and yes, Blaine is so in love. 

It hurts even as he feels the elation that he has always associated with love, because he knows that as devoted as he can be to this man, he can never receive that same devotion in return. That ring stays firmly on Kurt’s finger and Blaine can hardly keep his eyes off of it sometimes when they’re together. He knows that Kurt sees him staring sometimes, knows that it makes him uncomfortable and twitchy to think about. Kurt is married to another man, and he must have loved that man at some point, because why else would he have married him?

Blaine knows that he doesn’t really understand Kurt’s side of their arrangement as they have it. He couldn’t really imagine feeling so unsatisfied in a relationship that he would go looking for fulfilment elsewhere; he thinks he would rather not be in a relationship at all. He finds himself thinking about it at night sometimes, staring up at the invisible ceiling above him in the dark in the early hours of the morning. Does Kurt love Adam? And if so, is it even possible for him to love Blaine as well? Is it possible to devote yourself to two people at once? Or is it, as Blaine had originally thought, simply a way for Kurt to get off when he can’t do it with Adam? The thought makes him feel nauseous. Blaine doesn’t want to be used like that. He wants love and affection and romance – rose petals and _our song_ and carefree happiness and kisses. He doesn’t want to be just another sweaty body to Kurt.

And Kurt is so hard to read all the time that Blaine is never really sure what he’s thinking, what his perspective on the situation is. Kurt is forever running hot and cold on the relationship. One moment he’ll be whispering all of his fantasies into Blaine’s ear and the next he jumps away if Blaine so much as tries to hold his hand. Blaine has found that Kurt likes to be the one to initiate their encounters together – he doesn’t like to be taken by surprise and he doesn’t like when Blaine takes control out of his hands. He likes to have premeditation on the subject, knows exactly what he wants to do to Blaine once he gets him in private. Blaine doesn’t quite know what to make of that.

Although Kurt smiles and laughs, he’s closed off emotionally, invulnerable as closed war gates, and the thought of trying to breach them is somewhat intimidating to Blaine. He doesn’t like to talk about serious, deep things, doesn’t like to discuss feelings and harder subjects. On the one occasion that Blaine had attempted to begin a discussion about the whole thing, Kurt had laughed and brushed him off before pulling him into a furiously fast make out session before Blaine had to go shoot a scene, acting like two teenagers trying not to get caught. It had struck Blaine as more of a calculated move than simple horniness and he knows that it’s not that Kurt just isn’t thinking about all the implications of what they’re doing – he’s actively avoiding the subject.

But Kurt walks close to his side as they meander through the park that afternoon, his fingers brushing along Blaine’s while they make their way along the sun-shadow mottled path and chat about anything that strikes their fancy. He laughs as clear as bells when Blaine makes a joke and when he looks at Blaine, his eyes are soft and fond. He looks at Blaine as he would a lover. They stop to enjoy the shade of an old oak and perch themselves in the broad branches of the great tree that hang low to the ground, giggling and clutching at each other’s hands like kids climbing for the first time. Kurt’s face is flushed as he laughs and he looks at Blaine so open and so unabashedly happy that Blaine doesn’t feel for one second like the other woman. He feels like Kurt’s _love._ It’s a bittersweet idea.

The two of them stay in the park for the whole day, just the two of them laughing and talking and playing with each other and Blaine can’t bring himself to be unhappy right now, not when he knows he’s in love. In the afternoon, they stumble upon a clearing and lie in the grass together and Kurt lays his head in Blaine’s lap while he plays with the daisies in the grass as he talks about all the things he wants to do with his life, all the things he thought he wanted to do before life twisted unpredictably and he found himself running in a whole new direction. He makes a daisy chain with his nimble fingers, a long string of cheerful yellow flowers draped delicately over his chest and he says, ‘I used to do this with my mom all the time when I was young. We had so many growing in our backyard all the time, it only seemed fair to do something productive with them.’ He connects the chain up into one big circle and reaches up with backward arms to drape it over Blaine’s head – too long to be a flower crown, but it makes a lovely necklace. ‘You are an elfin prince,’ he tells Blaine seriously.

They stay when the sun goes down, content to watch as the sky turns a fiery orange before fading into a deep purple dusk and finally indigo as the moon makes its appearance. Blaine sighs. ‘The stars were brighter in Ohio,’ he murmurs.

Eventually, they have to leave. Kurt has to get back before Adam starts to worry, he explains. He’s already been MIA all day, if he’s gone any longer then his husband will probably create a whole search team to find him. He doesn’t sound happy about it.

They kiss goodbye, innocent as newborns, and then they leave in different cars to different houses in different parts of the city. And Blaine is in love with Kurt, and the fact that he can’t let it show has only just started to ache.

\--

Blaine is lounging on the couch at home a couple of days after his revelation, watching TV while absentmindedly chewing on cheese puffs and texting Sam arrangements for a trip down to LA, when he receives a call from Kurt.

He rushes to swallow his food and mute the TV before fumbling to answer the phone. ‘Kurt!’ he says.

‘Hey, Blaine,’ Kurt replies, voice tinted by the static of the phone. ‘How are you?’

‘Binge watching episodes of _Being Bobby Brown,’_ he says. ‘It’s heaven.’

Kurt laughs. ‘I can imagine,’ he says. ‘So no filming today? Or press or anything?’

‘No,’ Blaine says. ‘I’m a free man. Why?’

Kurt pauses. Then he says hesitantly, ‘Well... I’m free today too and, um, Adam is away in San Francisco for the next couple of nights. I was thinking you might like to come over.’

Blaine swallows. On the screen in front of him, the images flicker soundlessly. Slowly, he says, ‘In what proclivity?’

He can practically hear Kurt’s irritated expression when he says, ‘You know exactly what _proclivity,_ Blaine.’

Blaine’s throat goes dry. He says, ‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’

‘I look forward to it,’ Kurt says, and hangs up.

In the car, Blaine begins to wonder exactly what might happen once he gets to Kurt’s empty house. They very rarely get alone time, what with frustrating brothers and husbands lingering at home and people everywhere on set. Almost every _encounter_ they have with each other is a rushed mess of saliva-slicked hands that pull a tad too dry while they listen for approaching voices and try and keep their panting silent. Blaine enjoys what he can get, he really does because Kurt is _wickedly_ talented with his tongue and his fingers, but eventually he’s going to get antsy. They’ve explored almost everything they can do in a short time span – handjobs, blowjobs, rutting – and Blaine loves how it makes him feel, loves the excitement and fast beating hearts and always that edge of trepidation for what if they get caught, but he wants to slow it down. He wants the chance to spread Kurt out on a bed and worship his body in all the ways it deserves, spend hours exploring him in ways that are impossible when tucked into a shadowy corner on set during the half hour he’s not working, Kurt’s thigh rubbing insistently between his legs and his mouth sucking a bruise into the shadow of his suprasternal notch. He thinks about all the things he could do with Kurt with the hours stretched out in front of him and his heart begins to beat a little faster.

By the time he gets to Kurt’s place, he’s practically vibrating with excitement at all the possibilities. He’d become increasingly distracted on the road as his mind devolved into dirtier and dirtier thoughts and his pants grew tight with the thought of the fantasies. He’d been the recipient of several loudly blaring horns when he was too focused on other things to notice a green light, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to get to Kurt and – fuck. He doesn’t know. He wants to do _everything_ to him.

Kurt opens the door at his knock, smiles and says, ‘Hi – _mph!’_

Blaine pushes him back against the door and Kurt stumbles when the door gives way under his weight, swinging shut, while Blaine’s hands hold both sides of his face so he can kiss him properly and Kurt’s hands flail helplessly at his sides. ‘ _Oh,’_ Kurt says, hitching and breathless, when they come up for air. ‘Hello to you too.’

Blaine’s thigh forces Kurt’s apart while he pushes his body flush against his and Kurt’s arms wrap around his back, pulling him ever closer. He knows Kurt can feel him hard against his hip where they rut against the door, can feeling Kurt rapidly hardening in response to the friction. They kiss hard, open mouthed and fierce and Blaine just wants to be closer, harder, _more._ It doesn’t occur to him that they are not two steps into Kurt’s home, that they didn’t even make it through the preliminary greetings before they were all over each other. Not once does it occur to him that by his feet are a pair of Adam’s worn sneakers. He kisses Adam’s husband and he just wants _more._

He growls against Kurt’s mouth, ‘I want to fuck you.’

Kurt gasps.

It’s been plaguing his every sleep recently, images of Kurt underneath him, or over him, panting, gasping, begging him for more. Every time he sees Kurt he feels the urge, watches him with his long legs and perfect ass, and every night he goes home and jerks off to the thought of it and hopes that Cooper can’t hear him. He’d never thought that he’d get the chance – they were never able to spend enough quality time together, they’d just never have the time or patience for any sort of penetration, but now – well, now they have the time. And Blaine wants it. His cock twitches impatiently in his pants at just the thought of it.

Kurt pulls back to stare straight at Blaine and Blaine sees the way his eyes have gone dark and a blush has spread over his cheeks. He’s quiet for a moment, his mouth opening and closing silently, and then he says in a voice that cracks, ‘Yes. Yes, Blaine, please, I – I want you in me.’ His eyes flutter shut when Blaine’s thigh jerks against his dick at his words and he gets out through gritted teeth, ‘Blaine, please. Fuck me.’

They move to the bedroom after that. Blaine keeps his hand on the small of Kurt’s back every step of the way.

In the bedroom, they undress quickly and Blaine can’t quite seem to stop touching Kurt, can’t help but run his hands over the smooth pale skin of his back, feel his strong muscles flex underneath his palm when Kurt arches into his touch like a cat.

He forgets to breathe when Kurt stands in front of him, completely naked and absolutely stunning, and he forgets to be self conscious about his own naked body in return. Kurt pulls him down onto the bed with him and laughs when they topple over together, which quickly morphs into a groan when their cocks brush, for once without a layer of fabric to separate them.

Blaine can’t seem to pull his mouth away from Kurt’s body, because god, there’s so much that he needs to explore that he didn’t get the chance to before now, so much skin and warmth and tense muscle underneath his lips. He pushes Kurt flat against the mattress and kisses his way down his neck, licks at the slender line of his clavicle and then moves lower, trailing a path down his chest until he takes a nipple in his mouth. He bites down gently and Kurt jerks violently. A hand comes up to pull at Blaine’s hair and his grip is so tight he can feel his scalp protesting, and somehow that only spurs him on. He licks and nips and pulls at Kurt’s nipple and smiles at every breathless moan he receives before dragging his lips lower, over Kurt’s abdomen where he feels his muscles jumping and twitching underneath the heated skin. He can feel Kurt’s heartbeat in his stomach, a fast, steady pulse under his chin and he imagines his heart feels the same.

When Blaine takes Kurt in his mouth, Kurt moans loudly and his head jerks back against the mattress while his eyes snap closed. Blaine doesn’t stay there for long – only for a couple of minutes while Kurt’s legs move restlessly, heels pushing against the sheets and piling them into little mounds in his effort to stay still while Blaine swallows him down, takes him deep enough to brush his nose against the hair at the base of Kurt’s cock, until Kurt is slapping frantically at his shoulders to get him off before he comes. He says, eyes intent on Blaine while he tries to form words with no air in his lungs, ‘I want to come with you inside me.’

Kurt pulls a little bottle of lube from the drawer of the bedside table and he pushes it into Blaine’s hand impatiently while he scrambles to sit up against the headboard and his legs fall open in a clear invitation. Blaine rubs the pad of his finger over Kurt’s hole gently and watches the way Kurt’s eyes shutter closed at the feeling. He swaps the thumb out for a lubed up finger and begins to press gently until the ring of muscle gives way and his finger slides into the tight, slick heat. Kurt breathes out hard, but otherwise doesn’t make a sound.

Slowly, he pumps his finger in and out, watching Kurt’s face, drinking in every minute expression that he makes while his finger twists and drags along the walls of Kurt’s ass. It doesn’t take long before he adds a second finger, pushing them in faster now, building a rhythm as he goes. Kurt bites at his lip, eyelids fluttering uncontrollably while Blaine works. Blaine strokes his free hand gently along the inside of his thigh and murmurs, ‘You don’t have to be quiet for me.’

He crooks his fingers sharply and when his fingers bump against that rough patch that he was searching for, Kurt’s whole body spasms and his ass clenches like a vice around Blaine’s fingers. He moans, long and low, and starts pushing back against Blaine, too shaky to be in time with his thrusts. Blaine’s cock twitches at the sight of him, open and shamelessly giving himself to Blaine with his head tossed back to show off his long neck, his fingers digging into the sheets to find something to grip onto with Blaine’s fingers inside of him. When Blaine adds a third finger, he finds himself mesmerised by the way Kurt’s ass stretches around them, the tight ( _so tight_ ) ring of muscle red and slick and open when he pulls out.

It only takes a couple more minutes before Blaine deems Kurt ready and he tugs a condom from a box in the same drawer as the lube, opening it and sliding it on quickly while Kurt lies and watches him with half lidded eyes, still splayed and utterly unconscious in his want as he waits.

Everything seems to become very fast and urgent then. What had been languid, almost lazy worship of Kurt’s body suddenly transforms into an overwhelming need to have him, now. Blaine lines himself up at Kurt’s hole quickly and has to force himself to pace himself when he enters. He pushes in, inch by inch, feeling Kurt’s body give around him and Kurt’s breath hitches, stutters, stops entirely for a moment when Blaine bottoms out.

Blaine groans at the feeling of Kurt, so incredibly tight and hot around him, gripping at his cock as he forces himself to stay still while Kurt adjusts to the feeling of him. But it isn’t long before Kurt nods, gives him a shaky smile, and Blaine begins to thrust.

He starts out slow, pushing in as deep as he can before pulling out almost all the way until the head of his cock stretches the rim of Kurt’s ass. Then back in again and again and again. Kurt’s arms come up to pull Blaine down on top of him until his weight is solidly pushing him down into the mattress and the new angle seems to hit just the right spot inside of Kurt, whose back arches in his pleasure.

Blaine feels on the edge of coming already, can hardly stand the grip of Kurt’s ass around his cock, but he’s determined to make this last. He starts up a rhythm, powerful thrusts driving into Kurt’s body while Kurt moans and writhes underneath him, pushing his ass back against his cock as he thrusts and eventually Kurt’s voice breaks into a wail, high and wavering. His legs come up to wrap around Blaine’s waist and pull him even deeper, his heels digging into his ass.

‘ _God_ , Blaine.’ Kurt pulls his head to the crook of Blaine’s neck, his panting breath warm against Blaine’s collarbone. ‘Feels so fucking good.’

Blaine’s thrusts pick up speed and Kurt cries out, panting little ‘ _ah, ah, ah!’s_ as his body jolts beneath Blaine and his fingers turn to claws over his back. Blaine grunts as he thrusts harder and those hot little noises Kurt is making veer wildly up into a whole new octave.

‘You like that?’ Blaine manages to get out through gritted teeth.

Kurt nods helplessly, frantically, and gasps out, ‘Yes, yes, _please – ’_

Blaine feels himself coming undone a minute later and his plunges become loose and uneven while Kurt’s moans swing even higher and he starts babbling, desperate and unconscious. ‘Blaine, Blaine Blaine, gonna come, oh _fuck, harder,_ please, oh God I need it, _oh – ‘_

_‘_ Come for me,’ Blaine whispers. ‘Come, Kurt, do it.’

Blaine reaches down and pulls once, twice, three times at Kurt’s cock before he comes. Kurt stills, shudders through his orgasm without a sound, and then Blaine’s gone too, coming into the condom so hard spots burst in front of his eyes. He works through his release with an open mouth and a groan, and he almost blacks out for a moment, his cock slipping out of Kurt’s ass with a lewd noise. He manages to work up the energy to toss the spent condom into the bin over the side of the bed, and then flops down onto the bed beside Kurt, tired and sated

Kurt laughs breathlessly as he turns his head to meet Blaine’s gaze. His eyes are soft and he reaches out to cup a hand against Blaine’s jaw affectionately. ‘That was really, really good,’ he admits.

‘Yeah,’ Blaine agrees and then yawns widely, making Kurt smile broader. They lie there without another word, Blaine’s head curled on Kurt’s chest, and when Blaine falls asleep not minutes later, he can’t remember the last time he felt so content.

\--

When he wakes in the morning, Kurt is gone and the bed is cold beneath him. He finds him in the kitchen when he stumbles out in just his underwear from the night before. Kurt is making omelettes, judging by the surplus of discarded egg shells piled neatly on the bench beside him where he stands at the stove.

Blaine is so happy this morning, happy in the purest sense of the word, and in his mind he runs over last night’s activities a dozen times. It’s been ages since he’d last had sex with someone in that way and even then his last boyfriend had mostly topped, which had been fine because Blaine likes it both ways, but he can’t remember ever enjoying sex quite as much as he did last night with Kurt. He thinks it’s probably less the specifics of what happened, as stellar as it was, and more the fact that it had happened with Kurt. Kurt, who is wonderful and enthusiastic and giving with his body and whom Blaine is very much in love with. Sam can tease him all he likes about being one of the ‘last great romantics’, but Blaine will forever hold that sex is that much better with someone you actually care about than just another nameless face – or worse, to be that same nameless face to another person. And sleeping with Kurt has left him feeling buoyant, weightless, satisfied. _Happy._

Blaine walks up behind Kurt and wraps his arms around his waist, resting his head on the back of his neck. ‘Hey there,’ he mumbles sleepily.

He misses the way Kurt tenses up at his touch, nor does he catch the slightly plastic tint to Kurt’s smile when he turns to face Blaine. ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘How did you sleep?’

‘Brilliantly,’ Blaine yawns, and buries his nose into the warm nape of Kurt’s neck.

Kurt wriggles out of Blaine’s grabby hands and says, ‘Okay, Mr Mole, let’s get you some breakfast.’

The eggs are beautifully cooked and seasoned, and Blaine manages to scoff three helpings down before he’s full, because apparently sex really takes it out of a person, but it quickly becomes clear that Kurt doesn’t share his ebullient mood. While Blaine feels as though he walking on clouds this morning, Kurt is jumpy and terse and only seems to be willing to engage in conversation for the bare bones of politeness. He won’t meet Blaine’s eyes and he barely eats anything himself, pushing his plate away before he’s half done. It takes Blaine longer than it probably should to catch on to Kurt’s sour temper – it’s not until they’ve finished packing up the dishes and Kurt deftly avoids Blaine’s outstretched hand that he realises that something is wrong.

He frowns. ‘Kurt?’

‘Yes?’ Kurt says distractedly.

‘Something’s up,’ Blaine says.

Kurt looks up and Blaine recognises the signs immediately – Kurt is a surprisingly good actor for someone who never pursued it professionally, but Blaine _is_ a professional and he knows that Kurt will lie before he even says anything. He watches the way Kurt’s eyes go big with unknowing, the way his gaze flits around the room as though looking for this strange disturbance that Blaine had somehow detected, and he feels his mood begin to drop rapidly when he realises that there is inevitably conflict to come.

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Kurt says, all blinking innocence. ‘I – is something wrong with you?’

Blaine’s brow lowers and he feels hurt that Kurt would try to hide this from him – whatever _this_ is. ‘You’re not telling the truth,’ he states plainly.

‘No, no, I’m fine – ‘

‘You’re _not,’_ Blaine says, folding his arms over his chest.

Kurt stares at him for a moment, a little calculating, then after a moment he seems to come to a decision and he folds his own arms over his chest in return. ‘Fine,’ he says. And then, and his words hit with all the strength of a bomb, ‘I don’t think we should do this anymore.’

Blaine feels his stomach drop out of him. He swallows hard against his suddenly paper dry throat. ‘W-what?’

Kurt shrugs helplessly, a small angry movement with his arms still folded tightly against his chest, like he’s trapped in chains that he created, a straight jacket of his own doing. ‘I don’t think we should do this,’ he repeats. ‘I think that we’ve taken it too far.’

‘Too – _too far_?’ Blaine blinks incredulously and for a moment he honestly believes he’s hearing things wrong. ‘What do you mean _too far_?’

‘I _mean,_ Blaine, that you and I doing – ‘ he gestures awkwardly – ‘what we did last night, was a mistake. And it should never have happened.’

‘Last night was _beautiful,’_ Blaine says.

‘I was horny and had time on my hands to spare,’ Kurt retorts harshly.

‘You don’t honestly believe that, do you?’ Blaine says, and his voice is beginning to rise now as his temper escalates upwards. ‘You don’t – what are you even saying?’

‘That’s what it was, Blaine,’ Kurt snaps. ‘There’s nothing to believe.’

Blaine’s heart is beginning to pound uncomfortably in his chest and his throat is closing up on him. Everything he’s hearing is wrong, so wrong, because last night was _incredible,_ last night meant so much to his and Kurt’s relationship, and hearing everything being flung back at him like this is rather like being spat upon directly in the face. He says with difficulty, ‘Maybe it meant nothing to _you,_ but it damn well meant something to me. Don’t you _dare_ tell me that this wasn’t about love.’

And Kurt snaps. ‘That’s the point, Blaine!’ he yells. ‘That’s the fucking _point_! This – what we did last night – it’s not the same as rubbing one off when you want to relieve the tension, it’s not about the _hormones,_ it’s – _intimate,_ it’s special, and – and – it should never have happened between _us._ Because we’re _not in love,_ we – we can’t be in love, that’s just not how it _works.’_

And that’s when Blaine knows that Kurt feels it too. He stares at this man across the room, eyes glassy with furious tears, chest heaving and palms held trembling tight at his side, and he knows that Kurt is in love too. He knows it with all the certainty that he knows he himself is in love, because Kurt thinks the same way he does and he _knows_ that last night most definitely wasn’t about warm bodies, not for either of them, because no matter how hard Kurt can try to deny it, sex means something important to him and last night he gave that to Blaine. Kurt knows the trust and vulnerability that is the most beautiful part of sex and he let himself be that way with Blaine. It never meant nothing to Kurt – probably not right from the start, right from the very moment when he let himself kiss Blaine back on that quiet Sunday morning. Blaine wonders if Kurt has realised that himself yet.

‘Be honest with me here, Kurt,’ Blaine says quietly. ‘It’s not that last night shouldn’t have happened because it meant nothing. It shouldn’t have happened because it meant _everything.’_

It’s like something inside of Kurt collapses when he hears those words. His face, so carefully controlled always, shatters as he begins to cry in huge wet gasps that he couldn’t hold in if he tried, his hand coming up to clutch at his chest like it _hurts_ and Blaine’s heart breaks as he watches him. He looks miserable and lost like he doesn’t know what he’s doing and Blaine doesn’t know how to help him.

‘I’m _married,_ Blaine,’ he gets out, still angry through his tears. ‘You don’t know what that means to be married to someone, the commitment, the trust, the – the certainty that you won’t fall for someone else – ‘

And then he’s gone again, incomprehensible through his sobbing and Blaine can’t stand it anymore, so he runs to Kurt and gathers him up in his arms while Kurt falls apart entirely and Blaine just doesn’t know how to help him. He holds Kurt’s head close to his chest as he cries, strokes through his loose hair while he stares unseeingly at the floorboards in front of him and lets Kurt’s vibrations run through his body. He keeps saying, over and over again like a chant, ‘Can’t do this anymore, can’t do it, can’t handle it, I can’t do it...’ Blaine just keeps stroking his hair.

Eventually Kurt quiets down and his breathing evens out as the tears stop flowing. He doesn’t pull out of Blaine’s arms, allows him to hold him as he lies still and heavy and unresponsive. After a while, he says, ‘I’ve fucked everything up.’ His voice is frighteningly emotionless.

‘No...’ Blaine says soothingly. ‘Don’t think like that.’

‘But I have,’ Kurt says, still in that same tone, expressionless and bleak. ‘My marriage. You and me. Probably my job, _fuck.’_

Blaine bites his lip as he looks at the top of Kurt’s head. He can’t deny the truth of Kurt’s words. Still... ‘Well, even if you did, we did it together. You can’t blame yourself for this, Kurt. Not alone.’

Kurt is quiet for a long time while Blaine strokes along his arm, feeling the warmth of his smooth skin underneath his fingertips. He says, and his voice is small and tear stained and lacking all the strength that Blaine is so used to associating with it, ‘Can you go now? Please?’ He draws in a breath. ‘I just need to be alone now, I think. I... I need the time to think.’

Blaine is still for a moment before he nods slowly even though Kurt can’t see it. Delicately, he extricates himself from Kurt’s body and Kurt props himself up on an arm while he watches Blaine pull himself together and get ready to go. His eyes are bloodshot and tired and his hair flops unkempt over pale – too pale – skin. He looks more undone than Blaine has ever seen and for a moment Blaine feels horribly guilty, because he can’t but feel as though he is the reason that Kurt looks like this. He looks defeated. And sad. So sad. And like it or not, Blaine is at least partially the reason that that hopeless, ghost-like expression haunts his face. It’s not a nice feeling.

He gathers up his coat in his arms and turns to face Kurt one more time. Kurt watches him silently. Blaine swallows hard and says, ‘I understand that you need some time, but I hope you know that I’m always going to be around when you need me, right? You do know that?’

And Kurt just watches him, motionless. And just as Blaine prepares to head out the door, he nods. Just once.

\--

Blaine doesn’t hear from Kurt at all for days. He spends the weekend in radio silence and when the working week comes around, Kurt is absent from that too. His costumes assistants take care of Blaine’s clothing for filming and when Blaine asks Rachel about it, she tells him that Kurt came down with a bad cold over the weekend and probably wouldn’t be at work at all that week. She says this with the same vivaciousness as usual, but her eyes are guarded and her smile is fake and he knows that she knows more than she is saying.

He mopes. Not that he would be proud to admit it, but when he’s not in professional mode he’s sulky and moody and unresponsive to most people’s attempts at a conversation. He knows that everyone on set notices, because how could anyone miss the permanently bright and cheerful Blaine Anderson when he skulks around all day with a rain cloud over his head? He doesn’t have the energy this week to keep up a veneer of gentlemanly charm. So he sits in his trailer and refuses to deal with his annoying brother and co-workers when he isn’t forced to, and all the while Kurt is nowhere to be found. It’s probably not fair to resent him for it, especially when Blaine had promised him all the time he needed to figure himself out, but at the same time, Blaine is impatient. Blaine wants to know beyond any doubt that Kurt loves him back, because everything is out in the open now – almost everything. All of _Blaine’s_ feelings are aired, but Kurt is still holding back. And Blaine wants confirmation for everything he already knows.

Kurt isn’t back during the second week either and Blaine finds himself missing him more than he thought he would. He’s has always known that he can be a bit clingy around people that he cares about, wants to be around them always and spend every moment with them possible. But the level that he misses Kurt startles him – he feels his absence like a wound in his chest. He feels it in the little things that shouldn’t matter, but do. The costumes assistants don’t give him those flirty little looks when they fix up his clothing during a change, and their fingers are so much more efficient and brusque than Kurt ever was. He no longer has a companion to trade complaints with when Cooper is being particularly obnoxious or his fans are straying just that side of creepy again. On Friday of the second week he does a joint interview with Sebastian and grits his teeth through every smarmy comment he makes and thinks, like water at the end of a desert trek, of all the hilariously snarky jabs Kurt will make when he tells him – only to realise that that wouldn’t be happening after all. And that hurts.

On Monday, exactly seventeen days since he last saw Kurt’s face, he’s already started to conjure up increasingly unlikely scenarios to explain Kurt’s absence ( _left America to become a tribesman in the Amazon?_ ) when Rachel corners him.

It’s all very dramatic. She spots him, tosses her hair over her shoulder with a practiced flick, marches right up to him until he’s literally backed into a corner, and recites: ‘Kurt wants you to know that he really appreciates your patience and he’s almost there, but not quite. Give him a little bit more time, and he’ll be ready. And also – ‘ Her voice takes a soft turn and suddenly her words aren’t so perfectly scripted anymore. ‘Not that he would ever admit it in a million years, but he misses you, Blaine. So badly. He’ll come back, I promise.’

Blaine wonders exactly how much Rachel knows about the current debacle.

On Thursday night, Kurt shows up at Blaine’s home.

Blaine isn’t expecting him. Cooper has just left for some club to undoubtedly trawl for ladies and Blaine is taking advantage of the quiet house to run his lines for the scenes tomorrow without irritating commentary of his every movement. (Cooper doesn’t believe that one can be a convincing actor without pointing and loud voices. Blaine isn’t quite sure how he managed to score a spot on such a big TV show, but paired up with the equally unironic drama of Rachel it somehow works in the most confusing way possible.) He hears the knocking on the door and thinks that it’s completely irresponsible for Cooper to keep forgetting his key like he does, so he’s completely unprepared when the door swings open to reveal not Cooper’s sheepish face, but Kurt.

He looks better today. The rings under his eyes have disappeared and his hair and clothing is styled impeccably as always. He still looks pale but he meets Blaine’s eyes with the certainty and poise that had been missing the last time the two of them had seen each other. Blaine is speechless, too shocked at Kurt’s sudden appearance to form words and when Kurt quietly asks to be let into the house, all he can manage is a nod of the head.

He follows Kurt through the door (and _god,_ how did he ever forget how beautiful he is?) and the shock of seeing Kurt again when he’d honestly begun to give up hope has sent his mind into a tailspin, careening uncontrollably all over the place with a dozen thoughts per second, emotions flung to the wind and scattered while he watches Kurt settle, calm and collected, onto the couch in front of the TV. He watches Kurt look up at him and pat the space on the couch beside him before folding his hands in his lap while he waits for Blaine to sit. His hands are trembling, vibrations so small that they’re almost impossible to catch, but he meets Blaine’s eyes unflinchingly. Blaine remembers, can’t _forget_ the way Kurt had looked the last time they had been together. It had haunted him, how broken Kurt had been because of him; he hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind at night. But he doesn’t look shattered anymore.

Miraculously, Blaine manages to get his voice back. ‘K-Kurt!’ he says, and mentally slaps himself for stumbling. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Well,’ Kurt says, ‘I figured that if we needed to talk about this mess, then we should probably, you know... talk about it.’ His voice is measured and low, but sure.

Blaine opens his mouth to agree but Kurt holds up a hand before he can get the words out. ‘And – I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Blaine, so much thinking while I lie in bed and my husband worries about me because I’m lying to him and telling him that I’m sick but refusing to go to the doctor because god knows how that would turn out, and I think I’ve finally managed to work some things out in my head.’

Blaine stays silent, because he’s beginning to realise that if he doesn’t just let Kurt talk, then it might just never happen.

Kurt takes a deep, steadying breath and looks down at his hands. He’s silent for a long moment, nails picking restlessly at his cuticles while Blaine waits patiently for him to start. The silence is weighted, heavy with words unsaid.

Finally, Kurt begins to speak.

He starts slowly. ‘I’ve been... confused a lot, recently. I’ve been married for three years now – Adam and I dated all the way through college and he proposed to me right after I graduated and I accepted. I was... really happy, so much of the time. Adam made me happy, and somehow I made him happy too. I thought that that was the way it would stay, and for a long time that is how it was. We lived together and supported each other and only sometimes had those little bickers that all married couples have. Everyone liked us together, liked the idea of us. Even the damn in-laws.’ Kurt laughs wetly. ‘My dad thinks that Adam is pretty much the most charming man he’s ever met. I don’t suppose the accent hurts.’ He drops his gaze. ‘So we did all the things that we’d heard people who love each other do, and that was fine, for a time.’

Kurt exhales a long, deep breath. ‘And then I met you,’ he says, hard. ‘And it wasn’t until I met you that I realised how _passionless_ my and Adam’s romance was. I mean, god, I don’t think we’ve done anything new or _exciting_ since about six months after we started dating. And it was like I was split in two, because I’d already promised myself to him and all I could think about was you. And I found myself staring across the kitchen table at this perfectly decent man and hating myself, because if all you can think of somehow is that they’re _decent_ then there’s no way in hell that you deserve to be married to them. And _you_...’ Kurt shudders. ‘You just set me on _fire,_ Blaine.’

Kurt looks up at Blaine suddenly, traps him with bewildered eyes, shining green-blue with the beginnings of tears. ‘And suddenly I was thrown into this whole new world that I didn’t know existed, because I was in love, wasn’t I? I was in love, I was so sure. But it didn’t feel like anything when I compared it to how I felt about you.’ He blinks rapidly to clear the tears. ‘You – you introduced me to this whole _spectrum_ of emotion that I’d never known before with your stupid _smile_ and your _enthusiasm_ and the – the way you looked at me.’ His voice quiets down into a murmur and it’s almost as though he’s talking to himself. ‘You terrified me with all the things you made me feel. And – and I loved every moment of it.’

Kurt’s smile twists wrong, twitches weak at the corners. ‘Adam would fuck me, and I would imagine it was you, and I’d feel so disgusted with myself and then the next day I’d flirt with you and when Adam wanted me I’d imagine it was you all over again.’

Blaine listens to him talk without a word, but he’s so full with the want to say something that he thinks he might burst. He wants to say to Kurt – you make me feel the same way. You make me feel like a child in my naiveté, because how could I ever have thought that I was in love before you? Nothing compares, absolutely nothing, to how you make me feel. I always used to scoff at all the old clichés, because how could Helen be so spectacular that the whole of Troy loved her? And then I met you.

He makes himself be silent.

‘I’m coming to realise that I didn’t ever love Adam,’ Kurt says quietly. He fiddles with the hem of his pants and doesn’t look at Blaine. ‘Not really.’

‘Why did you marry him then?’ Blaine asks gently, because he honestly can’t keep quiet any longer.

‘Because he loved me,’ Kurt says simply. ‘You have to understand, Blaine, I never thought that would be something I could have. I had people telling me all my life that no one would ever feel that way about me, that I wasn’t worth it and then he _did_ and – ‘ He takes in a shuddering breath and Blaine watches as a single tear stains his jeans a darker blue. ‘And I was _so sure_ that this was my one chance for happiness,’ he sniffs, ‘so I took it.’

Blaine’s heart rents in two watching Kurt cry. He’s dignified about it this time, silent tears dripping down onto his hands and his legs, and he still manages to retain that calmness that he’d entered the house with. It’s something that Blaine has always admired about him, his shamelessness in the emotions that he feels. Blaine was taught from a young age that to lose control of your emotions in public is to be weak, but Kurt has taught him all the strength that comes with it. He hopes that one day he won’t feel ashamed to be any less than perfect – maybe Kurt can help him with that too.

Right now though, Kurt needs his comfort. So Blaine hugs Kurt and feels his arms come up around him in response, clinging tightly to his shoulders as he buries his face in his neck.

It doesn’t take long before Kurt’s tears turn into sniffles and he sits back, wiping under his eyes and his nose with a sigh while he pulls himself together once again, like a tailor pulling the last stitches closed on a piece of beautiful finery. He smiles all watery at Blaine in thanks.

It takes him a while to start talking again. Finally, he says, ‘I’m really sorry about treating you like shit for the past couple of... god knows how long. I know it’s not fair to you, or to Adam. I’ve just, I’ve been so confused, Blaine, my loyalties have been jumping all over the place.’ He sighs long and deep. ‘But I know now. And I’m not sure what I want to do from here on out. I’m... I’m still so frightened, about everything, about you and me and me and Adam and I really don’t know what I’m going to do. But I think it’s important that I be honest with myself right now. And if I’m being honest – ‘ Kurt looks at Blaine now, holds his gaze without flinching. ‘I’m in love with you, Blaine. And I can’t deny it to myself any longer, and I definitely can’t deny it to you.’

Blaine’s breath stutters in his chest. He knew it was true, he _knew_ it, but hearing those words come directly from Kurt’s mouth hits with an unbelievable power that makes Blaine feel weightless, free. He feels validated, like that rollercoaster journey of emotions he’s powered through over the past few months were worth it after all, because Kurt feels that way too. He feels that way too, and all of Blaine’s hopes are spread out in front of him, viable now in a way that makes him lightheaded. He forgets all of the complications that apply to their particular situation – he’s already thinking about longs days on the beach with Kurt splashing like kids in the ocean, and taking him to show off proudly on a red carpet, and buying him that ever-growing stockpile of ever-so-perfect gifts he has filed in the back of his mind. He wants to do _everything_ with Kurt. Everything.

He holds Kurt’s gaze for a long time and as the silence stretches Kurt’s mouth slowly tightens and his eyes go narrow at the edges before he stills so completely that he looks as brittle as glass. He whispers, ‘Please say you love me back, Blaine. Please. I’m begging you.’

And Blaine realises that Kurt has just exposed his soul, his vulnerability, laid it bare and bloody on the ground between them with no defence left to save it. He’s put so much trust in Blaine’s kindness in this very moment, allowed himself to believe that Blaine won’t just reject him outright – and Blaine hasn’t done a single thing to let him know that it’s okay. He’s been thinking up a riot of gooey thoughts in his mind, sure that his expression must be as goofily happy as he feels, but Kurt is reading his silence as impassiveness. Worse than a rejection. This whole time he would have thought that it was obvious that he returned Kurt’s feelings because of course he does, how could he _not_ – but Kurt doesn’t know that. Kurt has spilt his heart to him with no promise of a return of feelings and now – now he thinks that Blaine is indifferent.

‘Kurt!’ Blaine exclaims. He scrambles forward on the couch and grabs Kurt’s hand between both of his own. It’s cold and shaking. ‘Kurt, of course I love you.’ He shakes his head in utter disbelief, makes sure he holds Kurt’s eye if only so Kurt can see how utterly serious he is about this. ‘How could I not?’

Kurt stares at him for a moment longer, before his drawn face relaxes into a huge smile, like the sun coming out after a rainy day, and he looks so _relieved_ in that second, like he honestly can’t believe what he’s hearing. He says in a voice as high and airy as bird’s flight, ‘You do?’

Blaine can’t help but laugh then, because of all the things that could have happened, he never would have thought that Kurt would doubt Blaine’s love for _him._ ‘I was thinking of asking you out on a date about five minutes after I first met you,’ he says in all seriousness. ‘I thought you were pretty much the most gorgeous person I’d ever seen. It killed me when I saw your ring.’

Kurt looks down reflexively at his at his hands at that and Blaine’s follows his gaze. His slender fingers are free of ornament. He asks hushed, ‘Kurt...?’

‘I’m still married to him,’ Kurt says quickly. ‘But I just... it seemed wrong to be confessing my love for you while still wearing a token of _his_ devotion.’ He looks up at Blaine and holds a hand to his chest. ‘I want to be with you, Blaine. I hope you know that.’

Blaine kisses him then, can’t hold back any longer, puts a hand in his soft hair and holds his face as close as possible and Kurt kisses back with all the intensity of a dying man blessed with water. Before long their kisses turn heated and Kurt pushes Blaine back onto the couch below him, holds him down with his weight while their tongues dance and their bodies rock. They fuck right there on the couch, hurried lube and stretching and then Kurt is sinking down on top of Blaine, holding him still as he rocks and rides, pants and bites his lip while Blaine’s hips jerk uncontrollably, faster and faster until they topple over the edge together and Kurt lets his entire body collapse on top of Blaine.

In the afterglow, they discuss what they want to do, still sweaty and sticky while they draw patterns on their naked skin under the lamplight. There are so many factors to think about – what they’ll do if the affair gets out to the public, just as Sebastian had forewarned, how they’ll tell their family and friends, how they’ll break the news to _Adam._ ‘He’ll hate me,’ Kurt whispers miserably, face crumpling. ‘He’ll ask me why and I’ll tell him because I’ve already lied to him enough, and he will loathe me for the rest of his life.’ Blaine strokes his face and whispers meaningless comforts to him while they lie together, and hopes that Adam really is the decent person Kurt thinks he is, because resentment is the most mild reaction Blaine can think of to this news.

But though the conversation is hard, through it all is the steady, ever-growing bubble of happiness in his chest. Through it all is the steady drum of his heart, beating its message for all the world to hear. Because Kurt loves him, he knows it, and maybe it won’t be easy, but he knows that they can get through this the same way he knows that the sun will rise every morning. And they will, in time, and then they can be just as they are – just Kurt and Blaine, who love each other and don’t have to hide it. Kurt and Blaine, who have nothing to be ashamed of. Kurt and Blaine, for years to come. He can’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and/or comments would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading! <3  
> (I should also probably add that I don't endorse cheating on your significant others. I... yeah. Don't do it.)


End file.
